The Expedition
by arcedup
Summary: A joint Manticorian and Havenite taskforce heads through a wormhole into unknown territory. The closest inhabited system? Alderaan, where their arrival causes some consternation for the locals... Time period after HH13 (A Rising Storm) and in the middle of A New Hope. Un-beta'd.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of LucasFilm, everything related to Honor Harrington is the property of David Weber. No profit is being made nor is there the intent of making any profit from this story.

Please note that this story is un-beta'd. If you'd like to be a beta for this story, please message me.

This is basically an idea that's been rolling around my head for the last six months, and I'm using a bit of holiday time to have a proper go at it. Note that there are bits in the second part of the chapter that are copied from pages 102-104 of the _Star Wars Omnibus_.

* * *

"It'll be alright, Bail," said Queen Breha Organa of Alderaan with a smile.

Viceroy Bail Organa of Alderaan smiled back and, with effort, forced himself not to bounce on the balls of his feet as they waited on the landing pad. Having been a Senator for decades, he had learnt very early on how to control his body language. The fact that he was fidgeting in public was a sign of just how very nervous he was.

It took all of that control not to jump and whirl at the sound of a throat being cleared behind him. Instead, he merely turned and gave a pointed look at Frax Picus, the Chagrian Chair of the Department for Alien Development at Alderaan Planetary University. Frax gave a tight smile in return before opening his mouth to speak.

"You have a right to be nervous as well, Bail. You among all of us have more reason to be. Especially with that three-hundred-plus-ship fleet sitting up there."

Bail shrugged. "That might be so, I guess. But that makes it even more important that I appear less affected by my nervousness than your colleagues over there." He gestured at the other academics and diplomats milling about with an anxious energy a few meters away.

Frax accepted the point with a pair of raised eyebrows and he glanced at the contingent briefly. "Still, with at least twenty starships in that fleet approaching the size, if not the confirmed firepower of an Imperial Star Destroyer, I must say you appear more blasé about the fact than I'd expect."

"Humans are humans, Frax, and I've learned to be a good judge of character."

"Even through a language barrier?" The eyebrows went up again in mock-astonishment. Bail's response was another pointed look, which Frax accepted as an end-of-discussion gesture. He turned back to smile at Breha again before looking out to the sky beyond the landing pad and - again - suppressed the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet, as his thoughts turned back, briefly, to his headstrong adopted daughter and the mission she had taken on.

The faint sound of air-breathing turbines focussed everyone's attention as two sleek, almost-Nubian-looking landing craft descended out of the scattered clouds, their wings transitioning forward. The mutterings amongst the researchers grew as they considered the similar-yet-subtly-different designs and markings of the two aircraft and the group as a whole stepped back and began to turn away from the expected blast of hot gases as the landing craft began their final approach, wheeled landing gear dropping from their underbellies, but they were pleasantly surprised as the turbines throttled back to flight idle and their shriek was instead complemented by the thrum of what could only be repulsorlifts as the aircraft settled gently onto the landing pad.

Bail forced himself to put his daughter out of mind as the aircraft shut down and their hatches began to open. _What was it that Ben kept on saying? "Focus on the here and now."_

An armour-suited and blaster-carrying figure was the first person out of the left-hand craft, whilst there was a delay before a tall, fair man stepped out of the right-hand craft, wearing a black uniform with gold trim, at the same time a slim dark-brown woman with close-cropped hair stepped out of the left-hand craft, wearing a green top and grey trousers. As more uniformed people started exiting the aircraft, the two leaders stepped close to each other and had a quick, quiet conversation.

"Glad to see that their xenophobia doesn't extend to segregation within their own species," Frax muttered quietly as he watched humans of all varieties step onto the landing pad. Bail nodded slightly in agreement, then turned to Frax after observing for a few seconds more. "Don't you think some of them are a bit smaller than you'd expect?" he asked.

Frax opened his mouth but cut off his own reply as the group of humans started forward, and he stepped back towards the main group of academics, leaving Bail and Breha alone with a bronze protocol droid, L-4PO, as the tall man in black-and-gold and the slim woman in green-and-grey took the point position of the approaching group.

The visitors stopped with the leaders a few paces away and together the man and woman bowed slightly at the waist to Breha and Bail, who returned the bow but less deep. This wasn't recognised protocol in the galaxy, and Bail wasn't sure it was protocol in the visitor's culture, but as improvised as it was, it seemed to be working. Elfor made the initial introduction of Breha and Bail, before Bail took over.

"On behalf of our citizens and the Parliament of Alderaan and of His Most Imperial Majesty, I welcome you to our planet and to the greater Galactic Empire", Bail announced, steeping forward with an open hand as he did so. He would much rather have left off all the Imperial bits but since there was a holorecorder floating around somewhere, there was a likelihood that this would become public and the last thing he needed right now was to be seen snubbing the Emperor.

The tall man stepped forward to clasp Bail's hand firmly as Elfor completed the translation. "Vice-Admiral Sir Aviars Terekhov, commander, Joint Expeditionary Taskforce. Many thanks for your welcome, Viceroy," he responded. Releasing Bail's hand, he gestured to the woman on his left. "Vice-Admiral Helen Zachary, Taskforce second-in-command."

"Admiral," Bail said, taking the woman's proffered hand. Her grip was just as firm as Terekhov's. Once released, Bail raised a hand to stall the admiral's continued introductions. "Admiral, I can't help but notice the differences in uniform, which seem to imply that you belong to different organisations?"

There was a glance and a slight smile exchanged between Terekhov and Zachary once Elfor translated Bail's question, then Zachary stepped forwards. "Viceroy, our two groups actually belong to two completely separate star nations who were engaged in a bitter war until approximately five of our years ago. I and my crew in the green and grey come from the Republic of Haven, whilst Admiral Terekhov and his crew in the black and gold come from the Star Empire of Manticore."

This time Bail couldn't hide his surprise. "That's - quite amazing actually," he remarked. "And quite a testament to the professionalism of your two services, that you can turn from fighting each other to forming a joint expedition together to head into the wider galaxy after such a short time."

This time there were smiles amongst all the visitors once Elfor finished translating, and Terekhov and Zachary took a moment to savour the pride of their crew members. "I thank you for your kind words to all of us, Viceroy," Terekhov said. "It was a very long war, and only the emergence of a common enemy and purpose was able to unite us. We -"

He was interrupted by one of the much-smaller crew members appearing at his side with an urgent expression on her face. "A moment please, Viceroy," the Admiral said before starting a quick-but-quiet conversation with the junior officer. Bail leant a bit closer to Elfor. "Can you understand anything?" he murmured.

"Oh, yes, Master Organa", Elfor replied just as quietly - at least she had better discretion than See-Threepio. "It appears that the junior officer has just received a rather urgent communication from the orbiting vessels, and she -"

Elf broke off as Terekhov turned back to Bail and approached him, the junior officer in tow. "Viceroy, pardon the interruption, but we've picked up a rather large and… interesting ship arriving in-system." He gestured to the junior officer, who held out her hand, displaying the small holoprojector in it. "We are rather new to this part of the galaxy - perhaps you could reassure us by confirming if this type of vessel is common, and it makes regular visits to this system?"

Bail looked down at the image displayed by the projector - and felt his blood turn to ice. The image was of a sphere with a dark equatorial band and a dish-like depression on its upper hemisphere. He had to work his mouth to generate enough spit to talk- "How- how large is it? And how far away, in planetary diameters?"

"Its mass and dimensions approach that of a small moon, and it's about…" Terekhov tailed off as he did the mental maths, only to be provided the answer from one of his officers. "Approximately twenty times the diameter of Alderaan away."

 _We have time. Not much, but…_ Mind racing, Bail started looking around - at the academics and diplomats a short distance away, the formal guards surrounding them…

A light touch on his hand snapped him out of his thoughts. It was Breha, and she was looking into his face with fear and worry. "Bail? Is that it?" He could only nod his head in answer as Breha gasped in shock, and someone else snapped out a sharp word that he didn't quite catch…

It was Zachary, calling him before Elfor could translate, and she and Terekhov looked at him with consternation. "Viceroy, _what is that vessel?_ "

There was along pause before Bail sighed. Nothing for it, then. "It's a battle station called the Death Star. It's the only one of it's kind and it probably has enough firepower to destroy this planet with a single shot."

The effect of the translation was electric on the visitors, as they all snapped to alertness. Which was all well and good, because as soon as Elfor completed the translation- "Battle station? Pardon me Viceroy, did you say _battle station?_ With enough firepower to destroy _Alderaan?!_ " Elfor exclaimed loudly, and gasps and mutters swept through the indigenous Alderaanians on the pad, mutters which rapidly grew louder as people quickly put two and two together. Frax Picus was closest to Bail and was by his side in a few strides.

"Bail-" he began.

"Frax, yes-" Bail started to reply, but by that time he was no longer in control.

The visitors were. The two taskforce commanders had quickly discussed their situation and were now rapidly issuing orders - one of which, it seems, was to grab everyone on the platform and start pushing them towards the landing craft.

"Bail, I have the utmost trust in you, that's been well-earned during our long friendship," Frax said as they were herded along the platform, "But we've only just been introduced to these people. Are you sure this is the right choice?" From the rumbles of agreement, some of the academics and diplomats were having the same thoughts.

"Frax, right now, this is the only choice if we want to have any hope of staying alive!"

His face mottled at Bail's pronouncement - the Chagrian equivalent of going pale. His mouth worked as thoughts raced through his head, before he latched onto one and spoke it out loud. "What about the rest of the planet?"

Bail winced at this. Officially, nobody on Alderaan should have knowledge of the Death Star, and to broadcast a planetary evacuation order would surely alert the Empire of a security breach and of the Rebel sympathies present on the planet. Briefly, Bail chose not to answer, operational security foremost in his mind-

"Bail, you've got to do it," Breha said. They were now in between the two landing craft, and there was obviously not enough room on either for the two of them to travel together, as Breha was being ushered towards the Republic of Haven craft whilst Terekhov had a strong grip on Bail's upper arm and was pulling him towards the Star Empire lander. "Bail, think of the lives you can save!"

That snapped him out of his funk, and as she stepped up to the hatch, he pulled out his comlink to show it to her. For a brief instant, her face lit up with a delighted smile, and she waved at him one last time before he was pushed into the craft and down into a seat. Terekhov settled down next to him, and he looked ahead to find that L-4PO had been placed opposite them, no doubt to facilitate continued dialog.

"Alright, Viceroy," Terekhov began, "I hope that is a communicator in your hand, which you will be using to issue an evacuation order?"

Bail nodded as the whine of the landing craft starting up grew louder. "I'll be asking the whole planet to evacuate."

"Good man", the admiral remarked. "Once you've done that, would you mind filling me in on the general political situation in this part of the galaxy? Take your time; my ships are breaking orbit now and we'll be pushing to catch up with them, so you'll have my complete attention."

He smiled at Bail as the aircraft lifted off the platform with a shudder. Bail gave him a half-smile back, then thumbed the activation stud on the comlink. "Citizens of Alderaan and visitors, this is Viceroy Organa speaking. I am ordering a planetary evacuation, effective immediately…"

* * *

Admiral Motti entered the quiet conference room, his face streaked by the linear lights lining the walls. His gaze went to the spot where Governor Tarkin stood before the curved viewscreen, and he bowed slightly. Despite the evidence of a small blue gem of a world entered on the viewscreen, he announced formally, "We have entered the Alderaan system. We await your order."

The door signaled and Tarkin made a falsely gentle gesture to the admiral. "Wait a moment yet, Motti."

The door slid aside and Leia Organa entered, flanked by two armed guards, followed by Darth Vader.

"I am -" Tarkin began

"I know who you are," Leia spat. "Governor Tarkin. I should have expected you to be holding Vader's leash. I thought I recognised your unique stench when I was brought on board."

"Charming to the last," Tarkin said in a tone that suggested that he was anything but charmed. "You don't know how hard I found it to sign the order for your termination tomorrow," he continued in mock-sorrow. "If you had only cooperated with our investigation, things might be otherwise. Lord Vader has informed us that your resistance to our traditional methods of enquiry -"

"Torture, you mean," Leia interjected, a trifle shakily.

"Let us not bandy semantics," Tarkin smiled.

"I'm surprised you had the courage to sign the order yourself," Leia hissed back.

With one gloved hand on the princess' slight shoulder, Darth Vader mentally tuned out the conversation, his attention switching instead to the viewscreen where the planet of Alderaan hung, glittering like a bauble in space. Reaching out with a tendril of the Force, he increased the magnification, so that the faint specks of starships travelling to and fro could be made out…

Well. _That_ was interesting.

"No! You can't! Alderaan is a peaceful world, we have no standing armies. You can't…" Leia was protesting, and Vader switched his attention back to the conversation at hand.

Tarkin's eyes gleamed. "You prefer another target? A military target perhaps? We're agreeable…just name the system." There was a stubborn silence from the princess, and Tarkin sighed. "I grow tired of these games, Princess Organa. Where is your Rebel base?"

There was still silence from the princess, and through the Force, Vader could sense her rising anguish and turmoil as she gazed upon her homeworld. Then there was a sense of resignation and… strength? And something else besides…

 _Oho!_ Vader thought. He hadn't had such a day of pleasant surprises in a long time.

"Dantooine," Leia whispered. "They're on Dantooine."

"You lie."

Both Tarkin and the princess snapped up their heads at Vader's interruption, Leia's face twisting into an indignant expression as she began to protest but the Dark Lord rode roughshod over her objections. "Let us examine the planetary traffic," he said, waving a hand at the view screen. "It is all heading outbound. Including," he tweaked the view screen controls again with the Force, "some craft that were heading inbound when we arrived in-system. In fact, given the lack of organisation around the new departures," Vader continued, as he moved to face the princess, "I suspect that an order to evacuate the planet has been given. This station's existence has been a secret until now; it's arrival in-system should be no cause for alarm. So why should the population of a planet be fleeing our arrival," and his voice deepened further, "Unless someone knows about the existence and purpose of this station?"

Leia gaped at the Dark Lord in total shock as Tarkin gazed at the screen intently. "Do you wish to clarify your statement about Alderaan's civilian status?" Vader rumbled ominously.

"Governor…" Admiral Motti, heretofore standing discreetly to one side, stepped close to Tarkin and brought his attention to a portion of the screen. "Those signals there…"

Tarkin refocused his gaze, hand on chin in concentration, before stepping back with a satisfied sigh. "Well! Many thanks, Lord Vader, for bringing this to our attention." He nodded at Motti, who made the viewscreen zoom in on a cluster of signals that were just appearing from behind the planetary limb. "That there is a significant fleet of ships departing, Princess; warships, it appears. You remarked that Alderaan has no standing forces. What are we to make of this fleet of clearly non-Imperial origin, currently attempting to flee?"

Leia looked to Tarkin, to Vader and back to Tarkin again. "I…"

"As Lord Vader so succinctly stated, you have lied to us, Princess; several times, in fact. About the civilian status of your planet, about the knowledge your associates possess about this station and," Tarkin hissed, stepping closer to Leia so that she was forced backwards into the Dark Lord's broad armoured chest, "about the traitorous sympathies of your home world." He straightened, a broad, victorious smile emerging across his face. "Dantooine is too far away to be an effective demonstration in any case, Princess, however I do believe that the loss of Alderaan will not be mourned." He turned towards the viewscreen, only to quickly turn back and waggle a finger at the increasingly-horrified Leia. "But don't you worry, there will be ample time to deal with all your Rebel friends in due course. Admiral Motti, you may proceed when ready."

Admiral Motti came to attention before turning away and issuing orders into a comlink. Desperately, Leia lunged towards the Governor before being pulled back by Vader, and he savoured the fear and growing anger twisting within her. He would have to make a persuasive argument with Tarkin later to forestall her execution, but based on what he was feeling so far, it would be most worthwhile. The Force told him so.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm playing fast and loose with SW physics in this chapter. It's not for plot tweaking, honest - it's just attempting a simple answer to 'how would these work?'

Also, I never thought I'd be asking this, but if you read this and you liked it, and/or you have some suggestions to make on improvements or ideas, pleas share them by leaving a review!

* * *

The door to the mess hall on the repair and fabrication ship HMS _Bessmer_ slid open and the rumble of conversation washed over Bail as he stepped inside. Scattered amongst the Alderaanian refugees were both Manticorian and Havenite crew members; most from the _Bessemer_ and her Havenite counterpart, RHNS _Heroult_ , but some from other ships, and of all ranks too. With the need to surmount the language barrier as quickly as possible, one protocol droid wasn't going to cut it, so Elfor had graciously provided the translation matrix between Galactic Basic and 'English' to be downloaded and disseminated around the fleet. Mealtimes had quickly become language classes as well.

Bail stopped at the table closest to the door and looked around for a moment. There was still an emotional rawness visible in the body language of the Alderaanians, as the four days since the destruction of their home planet was barely going to dent the grief all of them felt. Bail quickly squashed the guilt that welled up; he was extremely lucky to have his spouse with him (although the whereabouts of Leia, last reported missing, presumed dead after that distress signal, still worried him), whilst everybody else evacuated by the Expedition had no idea of the fate of their loved ones. Getting all the Alderaanians to at least help teach Basic and learn English was providing a good distraction from the grief.

After a quick acknowledgement from the occupants of the table he was standing by, he slowly wound his way around the mess hall, making sure to stop by every table and see how everyone was doing. What Frax had initially thought of as xenophobia had turned out to be simply a lack of other space-faring species where they came from, and whether it was professionalism or enthusiastic curiosity, there seemed to be no qualms from the Expedition crew about interacting with other species. Whilst he had managed to stop the Expedition crew from jumping to their feet every time he entered the room - he privately thought that he should be offering them that dignity, as his saviours - he still couldn't stop them from coming to attention in their seats whilst the senior officer of the table rose to acknowledge him, take his hand, and enquire after his well-being. It all felt rather odd, being treated as the representative of a planet which now no longer existed!

He finally came across the table where his wife was seated, along with Frax Picus (who as the most senior of the academic delegation, has been expediently pressed into service as their representative to the Expedition), L-4PO and the senior officers of the Expedition Train. Commodore Ginger Lewis of the Star Empire of Manticore was quite easy to recognise anywhere, with her namesake hair. Commodore Hiromitsu Ito of the republic of Haven was, by contrast, rather unassuming, but Bail had quickly found out that he possessed a steel-trap mind and - quite importantly for the current situation - had held a role in the past that had dealt with refugees. There was also the hint of wiry muscle under his uniform shirt, and Bail was quite sure he'd be able to hold his own in any sort of fight.

Of course, the two commodores rose to their feet with the customary "Your Honourable Grace" - this time said in passable Basic - but they sat down quickly enough at Bail's gesture, a hint of amusement on their faces at Bail's look to them both.

His smiles and greetings to Breha and Frax were returned warmly. "How's the meal?" he asked as he sat down.

Breha nodded and smiled in the middle of a mouthful, whilst Frax made a so-so gesture before answering. "It seems to be filling, tasty and nutritious, as with everything else I've tried."

"So?" Bail asked; Frax loved trying out new cuisines, and would often give mock-critiques of meals in _Rare and Delicious Dishes of the Galaxy_ -style. The short, abrupt description he'd given was very much unlike him, although it was better than previous meals, where he'd eaten them in a sorrowful silence.

Frax put down his utensil and sighed. "Is it so wrong that I just want some _churgeah shamluk_?" he said a bit plaintively, mentioning a common Chagrian comfort meal. Breha put her hand on Frax's arm in comfort, whilst Commodore Ito - having caught most of what Frax said - was listening to Elfor translate and explain the Chagrian dish before replying.

"Professor Picus, while you've said you're luckier than most, as the rest of your family was back on Champala, you've just seen and escaped the destruction of your current home and, if you'll allow me to make -" Ito trailed off whilst trying to find a word in Basic, and eventually had to turn to Elfor - "an assumption, you think that most of your friends are dead." Frax nodded in agreement.

"So whilst I am not a trained -" Elfor provided a translation again "-psychologist, I'd say that you are not alright in the mind at the moment, you have some form of -" What he said next in English, Bail didn't need Elfor to translate, he'd heard it enough from the Expedition's doctors over the last few days.

"Post-traumatic stress disorder."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Ito said. "So you are OK to be feeling a bit sick for home right now."

Frax nodded at Ito in thanks before continuing his meal, whilst Ginger turned to Bail next.

"So Viceroy, how's your head?" she asked in Basic with a cheeky grin.

"Sorry?" Bail replied in Basic, then repeated it in English.

"I asked how your head was, Your Grace," she continued in Basic. "I've also had the pleasure of joining the Admiral at one of his dinners and he is very good at getting information out of his guests. Do you feel that you have any more to give?"

Bail chuckled ruefully and mimed a throbbing headache. This session at the Admiral's table with the fleet's assembled officers had actually been more of a 'general information' session, with Bail providing information that a former Galactic Senator would be privy to. There had been other, private, meetings with the admirals where he'd been brutally frank about his loyalties, his position in the Rebel hierarchy and the current strength of the Rebellion.

"I hope I provided enough for him to chew on with the rest of his meal, Commodore," he replied, and she laughed in response.

"In all fairness, Your Grace," she continued, "You and everyone else here have been invaluable to us all. It's always important to try to get some local knowledge when first de-ploy-ing to an area -" she quickly looked to Bail to confirm her pronunciation - "and, even though you have all had a -" she tried traumatic in Basic a couple of times before giving up - "very hard time recently, you've been just as helpful to us. Even yourself, Professor Frax." Frax waved a hand in acknowledgement before Ito continued.

"I think we'll be able to leave your head alone for a day or so, Your Grace. We have a lot to do before your ship builders turn up with hyperdrives, so it won't be the insides of your head we'll be removing," he said with a smile, before nodding in the direction of a woman nearby. "Instead, it'll be young Sineth Bead we'll be asking hard questions of."

As if cued, the Torguta woman in question came up to their table, accompanied by one of the non-commissioned officers with orange highlights on his jumpsuit. He braced at attention before the commodores, relaxing into a parade-rest stance at a nod from Ito before beginning to speak. Bail listened as closely as he could, but was only able to catch the gist of the discussion - Sineth had an idea for modifying the current hyperdrives and wanted the help of NCO Arbeth to run a simulation and confirm her ideas, it seemed. Both commodore's eyes widened at this bit of news.

"If you'll excuse us, Your Grace," Lewis said to the Organas and Frax, "it seems one of your bright young people has put her head together with one of our bright young people and come up with an idea that may reduce the - hardness of the hyperdrive swap-out, and we're both keen to see what the simulations show."

Bail nodded and waved his hand in acquiesence, and both senior officers rose to join the junior officer and researcher to head out of the mess. At the same time, a Rodian on another table called out for Frax to join her in another discussion, so the professor made his excuses, leaving Bail and Breha alone together.

She shifted herself around until she and Bail were the closest they could be whilst sitting in separate chairs and when she spoke again, she was very quiet. "Did you put the proposal to the Admiral?"

"Not directly, no," Bail replied just as softly, "but it was a good forum to air our grievances with the Empire and pretty much argue why opposing them would be a good idea."

"What do you think our chances are of having them join us?"

Bail sighed. "If I was dealing with Admirals Terekhov and Zachary alone, I'd say our chances would be very high. Extremely high, if I was dealing with Zachary by herself." He paused and pressed his lips together. "The thing is, they have over three hundred ships and thousands of crew here that they would be putting up against the most powerful war machine in the Galaxy. It's not the mission they thought they would be undertaking when this Expedition set out. So, unusually for a military command situation, the admirals are going to put the question to their command group first." Bail paused for a moment, thinking, before remembering something. "In fact… my memory is a bit hazy, but I think I recall that someone mentioned Terekhov has done something similar before?"

* * *

A still holo of the planet Alderaan in the midst of shattering hung in the middle of the table. If taken abstractly, Commander Abigail Hearns thought, it would be an excellent planetary dynamics study example, as the planet splashed outwards from the impact point just as if it had been struck by a relativistic superdense object, instead of…

"…a coalesced beam of antiparticles, that were actually delivered subsurface through a hole drilled by the initial beam." Commander Ernst Maxby of the missile tender/fabrication ship RHNS _Sir John Fisher_ was finishing his explanation of the super weapon observed by the Expedition. "In effect, energy is energy, whether delivered kinetically or by other means, and it explains the gamma-ray flash observed immediately after impact."

The commander had apologised for bringing up the holo so soon after another excellent dinner, but in the intervening days spent in hyperspace following the impromptu evacuation and catastrophe, many people's sick horror had begun to coalesce into something else.

Anger.

"The 'turbo laser' bolts that were fired at us have the same principle - an energetic, accelerated antiparticle plasma bolt, fired at relativistic speeds."

"So, in effect, something like a pulsed anti-ion weapon?"

"Something like that, yes," Commander Maxby replied, stressing the _something_. "What it does mean is that our unmodified wedges will be able to withstand a continued bombardment for some time, but there may be other unusual issues, as there is likely to be some interaction between the antiparticle bolts trapped by the wedge and the normal particle load that the wedge bands sweep up - the EM energy will be blocked of course. Our sidewalls, however, will deflect the EM energy as usual, but we will have to rework our broadside particle screens to absorb the antiparticle load from the bolts, and that will take some time and effort."

One of the Havenite admirals, Kedzierski, sat forward in her seat. "So how does that explain the explosion just forward of the _Darmstad_ 's wedge?" The flight out of the Alderaan system, even with all their wedge roofs aimed towards the Death Star ( _Tester, what a name!_ , Abigail thought) was not without damage.

"I believe that was either a bolt impacting a small meteorite, or perhaps a bolt interaction with wedge-trapped particles as I described," the commander theorised. He held up his hands at the low rumble of noise coming from the assembled officers. "I'm not completely sure. We've been in this region of the galaxy all of _four days_ , sirs, and encountered many, many things that we never really considered beforehand. Given time and local resources, I will come up with answers, but I do like to stress I'm not a miracle worker." That brought a laugh, as Commander Maxby was considered a 'guru' on weaponry, just as much as Commodore Lewis was a whiz when it came to general engineering, and he was a protege of Admiral Shannon Foraker, who was of course way too valuable to join an Expedition such as this one.

Abigail cleared her throat. "In any rate, what you are saying, Commander, is that we will be able to absorb direct turbolaser fire with our wedges as normal - particle interactions notwithstanding - but currently you are still unsure about how effective our laser heads are against indigenous shielding."

"That's a pretty good summation, Commander Hearns." A mutter rippled around the table that quickly stopped when Admiral Zachary held up a hand.

"We will have more ideas about indigenous defensive and offensive capability in a couple more days, people, when we arrive at the system indicated by the Viceroy and rendezvous with his experts there," she said.

There must have still been some querying looks, as Admiral Terekhov continued. "Ladies and gentlemen, I understand some of the suspicions you may currently be holding, given the circumstances, but may I remind you that all evacuees have been vetted by our treecats. They have detected no malice or misdirection towards us, although in a political environment such as this, secrets of some kind are held by everyone. As I imagine our Havenite crew members can attest to."

The gentle prod, particularly towards the Manticorian contingent, made its mark, and the suspicious expressions quickly faded, some of them replaced with slightly guilty ones.

At the head of the table, Admiral Terekhov leaned forward onto his forearms. "Ladies and gentlemen, as some of you may realise, the Viceroy, myself and Admiral Zachary have been in much deeper discussion than publicly shown, as he and his wife have much more powerful secrets to keep, as befits their status as planetary rulers and representatives. They have entrusted me with some of these secrets, to keep or disseminate as I see necessary to keep this Expedition safe and in top fighting condition. I need not remind you that what I am about to share is considered classified."

Of course he didn't, but everyone straightened imperceptibly in their chair at the Admiral's words.

Terekhov waited a moment before continuing, as if gauging the commitment of the officers under his command. "Queen Breha and Viceroy Bail Organa have described some of the atrocities this Empire inflicts upon its citizens, both tonight and earlier, in the name of security and greed. They have also described the active rebellion against the Empire." He paused for a moment. "What they have not yet disclosed is that they are high-ranking officers in the Rebellion."

If there was any reaction from any of the officers around the table, none showed it, and Terekhov kept speaking into the dead silence of the day cabin.

"He has said that whilst the Rebellion has been active for some time, their operations have, until recently, been restricted primarily to cellular, single-system activities, as they do not have the resources - namely, a fleet of interstellar capital ships - with which to carry out mobile operations against the Empire. As you may have noticed, the Queen and Viceroy are shrewd people, and they have survived in their Rebellion against the Empire by seizing opportunities. They believe that the arrival of this Expedition has offered them another opportunity."

All of the officers around the table were very similar to Hearns - chosen for their active and suspicious brains - and she was sure that just like herself, everyone else could see what was coming.

"Before dinner this evening, the Viceroy had a private meeting with Admiral Zachary and myself, whereby he all but proposed that our Expedition join his Alliance to Restore the Republic, and form the core of their capital fleet."

This time, there was some reaction from the assembled officers, mostly in the form of minute nods.

"Now, when we formed this Expedition," Terekhov continued, "we thought that we were going up against Solarian or Mesan units, in strength and in prepared positions. In short, we were expected to be fighting, and possibly against unconventional weaponry and against numerically superior forces," and here he was interrupted by snorts and expressions of contempt from his audience. He allowed himself a slight smile before continuing again.

"I do realise that the quality of Solarian forces we have met so far has not been high at all, however ONI projections had the first of their upgraded, new construction coming on-line about now, so there was the assumption that we would be facing units closer to parity with our technology when we departed, plus I should not have to remind you that quantity can have a quality of it's own. In any case, the Expedition was put together as a standalone and self-sufficient fighting force. As usual, our orders also included a requirement to stop any atrocities inflicted by Solarian and Mesan forces against occupied populations. Despite our having traveled farther than anticipated, the opposition's weaponry being more different than expected, and our enemy being more numerically superior…" Terekhov paused briefly, "I fail to see a large difference between our current strategic situation, and the situation in mind when our orders were drafted. Admiral Zachary concurs, and so do our staffs."

Terekhov straightened in his seat now. "That is why I intend to accept the request of Breha and Bail Organa, to join their Alliance and have this Expedition form the core of their interstellar capital fleet."

The reaction was louder, and several officers were in firm agreement. Terekhov lifted two fingers from his armrest and quiet fell again. "Despite this, and despite the authority I have to make decisions for the fleet as a whole, I am well aware that our situation now is different enough to cause some people to pause, especially as there will be a lot of work to improve our capability in some areas. That is why I am now offering the opportunity for any officer to raise objections to the course I am planning to set. Such objections will be noted in the log, and so long as the objecting officer continues to carry out their duty to their ships and squadrons, there will be no further disciplinary action. If you object to the proposed course of action, please state so now."

Once again, there was silence from the assembled officers, which was only broken when a petite, dark-skinned, platinum-haired Commodore cleared her throat. "Sir," Naomi Kaplan began, "I believe that I speak for my fellow officers here when I state that I like the idea of showing this Empire what a true Resistance is capable of."


	3. Chapter 3

Note that there's a spoiler for _Star Wars: Rebels_ and _Rogue One_ in this chapter

* * *

On the bridge of the Mon Calamari repair ship _Restoration_ , General Hera Syndulla of the _Ghost_ keyed the com. " _Restoration_ Base to Spectres, report please."

"Spectres One and Two, all quiet here."

"Spectres Three and Four, nothing of interest to report."

The com system automatically displayed the translation from Chopper in the screen next to the com but Hera didn't need to read it to know what the droid had said: _Nothing to report._ Well, that was a broad translation: Chopper had been a bit more forthright in his reply, which was dutifully translated by the com for all to see - including the vice-admiral who had grudgingly invited Hera onto the bridge.

"An interesting comment from your astromech droid, General Syndulla," Admiral Ackbar remarked. She could feel his distrust of her underneath his words, however polite he was; it seemed that the Mon Calamari distaste for smugglers was a constant under Republic or Empire.

She sighed; she was going to regret this, but she couldn't stand it any more. "Listen, Admiral… yes, we had to smuggle stuff in our early days, but what we smuggled were vital supplies for the Rebellion. We weren't smuggling spice out of Kessel!"

His eyes flicked to and fro; Hera wasn't sure if that was an expression of annoyance or not. "And what about your dealings with a Devaronian named Vizago?"

Hera hesitated slightly. "Well… we only dealt with him when it was going to impact the Empire in the long term. But those days are long behind us, we're fully integrated into the Alliance. Why are you so worried about it now?"

The admiral waved a hand ( _flipper?_ Hera thought) in dismissal. "That is inconsequential at this time, as is this discussion over your dealings. I was simply making a point. What is important right now is Bail Organa's tardiness. Even your droid knows this."

Hera was taken aback by this. "But… he's just fled the destruction of his planet. We were there! We received his signal that he was off-planet!"

"And where is he now?" Ackbar replied, gesturing at the system beyond the viewport. "Even travelling in the slowest ship possible, he should have arrived before us. We are barely 100 light-years away from Alderaan."

"So maybe the ship he was in was damaged when leaving Alderaan. That's just one possible reason for him to be delayed. What does it matter to you, anyways? And how come you got yourself posted on this ship? I thought 'vice-admiral' was a bit too lofty for a lowly repair ship."

There was pause before the admiral answered. "Do you know of Senator Garm Bel Iblis?"

Hera had to wrack her brains for a bit. "He's the current senator… well, ex-senator, I guess - for Corellia," she replied, puzzled at the non-sequitur.

"And also in rebellion against the Empire. Note that I use 'rebellion' as a verb, not a noun; he is not part of your Alliance." _Not any more_ , the admiral thought to himself. "I've also been presented with information about what happened when your organisation learnt about the Death Star."

"So?" Hera queried sharply. "Admiral Raddus - _one of your own_ , I might add - plus myself, plus many others went to fight over Scarif. We did not abandon our fellow soldiers."

"Raddus is one who took his city-ship to your organisation," Ackbar said. "More of our kind went to fight for Bel Iblis and have reported back favourably. I understand Raddus was one of those who did not make it back from Scarif - nor did the Death Star plans." Hera's _lekku_ twitched in embarrassment, shame and growing anger at the presumptuous Admiral.

Ackbar turned towards the viewport. "These are dangerous times for those who wish to be rid of the Empire, especially now with the Death Star active. Mon Cala is gearing up for open rebellion, and we wish to take the fight to the Empire, but we cannot do so by ourselves, whatever our shipwright heritage."

Ackbar turned back to Hera. "So Parliament wants to ally themselves with a cohesive, trained organisation that achieves outcomes and whose members are willing to fight, not fracture at the slightest bit of pressure. Hence when Quarrie asked Parliament for the loan of a repair ship, I was asked to accompany him, observe Viceroy Organa's Alliance and report back on the suitability of an alliance."

He paused briefly. "He cannot impress on the suitability of his organisation if he is not here."

"I've fought for Bail for five years, and I've come to know him well," Hera all but snarled, determined to stand up of the Alliance in Bail's absence. "He may present a conciliatory persona in public, but he is tough in his heart. So is Mon Mothma."

"Viceroy Organa has just had his homeworld and primary base of operations destroyed, and is currently uncontactable."

Hera wanted to retort that Yavin IV was still operational but the lack of certainty stopped her - if the Imperial recon flight to Dantooine meant anything, the Empire was hunting down the Alliance base of operations so the Death Star could destroy it. Instead she said, "We've suffered a terrible blow, yes, but we're still effective as a fighting force."

"But most of your fighting strength consists of starfighters and corvettes. Handled effectively, such light vessels can win against much larger forces from time to time, but the last time such feats were accomplished was during the Clone Wars. When the Jedi led them."

Almost instinctively, Hera's mind flashed to Kanan and Ezra, sitting somewhere nearly ten light-minutes out from the primary. The _Ghost's_ crew as a whole were very reluctant to reveal their secret without consulting them first though, so she bit her tongue.

Then she recalled a detail from the Battle of Scarif. "You know, Raddus destroyed two Imperial-class Star Destroyers and a planetary shield gate with some Y-wing bombers and a hammerhead corvette."

"So just imagine what we can accomplish with a proper fleet," Ackbar replied. "Senator Iblis' Corellian Resistance has been active since almost before the Empire began and has a squadron of ships that could be easily expanded into a proper fleet with our assistance."

Hera stayed mute under the admiral's gaze, and the admiral seemed to take this as a sign that Hera had conceded the argument as he turned back to the viewport. "Do not worry so much, General Syndulla; the cells that form the bulk of the Alliance currently have done well with what you have at hand. I understand that your cell in particular has managed to land strong blows against the Empire in the past; it is not often that a Grand Moff, a Grand Admiral _and_ Darth Vader are directed to a particular sector in response to Rebel actions." The corner of his mouth turned up in an approximation of a flatface smile. "You and the crew of the _Ghost_ are a credit to the Rebellion. Well done."

Despite herself, a warm glow spread through her chest at Admiral Ackbar's words. "Thank you, sir." She wasn't quite sure why she'd tacked on the honorific; it just seemed right.

His acknowledgement of this was to turn towards her slightly as he inclined his head before he continued. "And in another piece of good news for Viceroy Organa's Alliance, I received a message from Alliance generals, shortly after Quarrie arrived at Mon Cala. It appears that the Viceroy has stumbled on a significant fleet of warships, just before he fled Alderaan. One can only hope that it is in decent repair, although Viceroy Organa's request for hyperdrives and shipwrights makes me worry."

Hera's thoughts turned to the large fleet that the crew of the _Ghost_ had seen fleeing Alderaan with them, soaking up turbolaser shots like a black hole as it did so.

"Do you know anything about such a fleet, General Syndulla?"

* * *

Ezra Bridger was a picture of calm as he sat, cross-legged, on the floor of the _Phantom_. Kanan Jarrus, try as he might, could not copy him; the blow of the destruction of Alderaan had shook him more than he realised. As he reflected, he shouldn't have been so worried about Ezra's reaction to the turmoil in the Force following the planet's destruction, despite the young man's screaming fit as they fled.

No; he should have been more concerned about himself.

He could hardly believe how much Alderaan's destruction reopened those old wounds, and in the aftermath, he could feel himself slipping. He could feel the anger welling in him at the Empire, and at himself - for not being able to prevent it. For turning away from the Jedi path. His mind filled with regret and recrimination and it was taking all his willpower to hold himself steady in the Force, but he wasn't so sure how much longer he could hold it.

 _Strength, Caleb Dume_ , he said to himself, then shook his head. He hadn't used that name in -

Wait a minute. Why was he thinking to himself in Obi-Wan Kenobi's voice?

 _The Force is with you, Caleb Dume, and your young apprentice, the voice continued. Do not worry, as a new hope is dawning._

"Obi-Wan Kenobi? Is- is that you?" As soon as he uttered the words under his breath, he chastised himself for being so foolish. He was obviously-

 _So soon to dismiss me as a figment of your imagination, Jedi Knight Dume?_ the voice said again.

Kanan sighed; _okay, so maybe I'm not getting space fever_. There was nothing for it then; he drew himself up in the cockpit seat and opened himself up to the Force again, like he'd tried numerous times before that day. Except that this time, he could feel the flow much more strongly, and he was able to grab a hold of a thread and use it to centre himself, before sinking deeper into the mighty river that was the Force.

 _That's better_ , the voice commended, and a vision swam into existence in his mind's eyes as the cockpit faded from conscious thought. It looked like Obi-Wan Kenobi, but aged considerably.

"The years have not been kind to me, Caleb," said Obi-Wan.

"How-… why-…" Kanan stopped, drew on more of the Force to centre himself, and began again. Properly. "My thanks to you, Master Kenobi, for your warning about the Jedi Temple."

The vision of Kenobi bowed his head. "Inasmuch it prevented the capture and death of yourself and others, I am glad to find that it worked to some degree. Which is good, because it was your idea."

"It was?" Kanan was thoroughly confused.

"Indeed," Kenobi confirmed. "When you were much younger, I gave a lecture about the recall signal, which you attended. It was there that you inadvertently gave me the idea that it could also act as a warning signal." He sighed, an old man's sigh. "I never quite thought that I would have to use it in my lifetime."

For a moment, the two of them were silent, until Kenobi gave a shake of his head and straightened. "Enough of the past; I have information for you, Dume, if we are to ensure the reestablishment of the Jedi Knights in the future."

"I- what?" Kenobi's statement threw Kanan for a loop. "But- "

Kenobi held up a hand. "My time with you grows short, Dume, so please listen carefully. I could not come to your assistance earlier because I was ensuring the safety of the last hope against the Empire."

"Okay…"

Kenobi nodded. "I had to ensure that the Skywalker children did not fall into the clutches of Vader and the Emperor."

Once again, Kanan's thoughts were thrown off track by Kenobi's information. "So-… sorry… Skywalker? _Children?_ But- "

"Dume, please." Kanan swallowed the question and waved… well, mentally waved… at Kenobi to continue.

"Right now, both children are with the Rebellion at their base on Yavin Four, where they have succeeded in destroying the Death Star." Kanan kept his questions to himself, but it was very hard to contain the surge of joy and relief that rose within him. "Unfortunately, I am no longer around to guide them," Kenobi continued. "I had to distract Vader during our escape from the Empire and in doing so, became one with the Force. However, we have options - for one, Master Yoda is alive and in hiding."

" _Yoda!_ " As if the news of the Death Star's destruction wasn't enough; Kanan felt that he was radiating happiness like a star.

"Indeed. He is currently in the Dagobah system, and I entrust you, Master Dume, with conveying the Skywalker children there to complete their training."

"I- wait a minute. Master?"

Kenobi chuckled. "You have done well, Master Dume, with young Ezra Bridger, however I believe you'll agree with me that even he could do with a spell under Master Yoda's tutelage." His face grew stern again. "There is more than that, however, in granting you the title of 'Master'. The newcomers will require guidance, as they have strengths in the Force of their own but they do not realise their own potential."

"Newcomers… the fleet?" Kanan asked, remembering the one that had arrived over Alderaan just before its destruction…the one the Viceroy had asked him to read in the Force before he agreed to their landing.

"Of course." The vision of Kenobi began to fade.

"But- " Kanan had so many questions, so many things he wanted more information on, that his mind was overloaded thinking of the first thing to ask.

"The Force will be with you, always," Kenobi said; he was almost gone. _With you and your apprentice._

"KANAN!"

Ezra's yell snapped Kanan out of his trance like a whip and he grabbed his head as pain ripped through it, at the same time trying to fend off Ezra who was clambering over him.

"Ezra! Wait- "

"No time!"

"Ezra, what- " He shook his head, trying to gain his bearings, but was thrown again as the _Phantom_ lurched to the side, hard.

"Ezra! What the kriff do you think you're doing!"

"Getting us out of the way!"

" _FROM WHAT?_ " he bellowed. The proximity alarm wasn't sounding and he couldn't sense a thing out there-

Until, all of a sudden, he _could_. Thousands of Force signatures appeared in space in front of the shuttle, and he heard Ezra gasp at the same time as hundreds of thousands more winked into being in the distance. He managed to focus enough to sense the ships…dropping _down_ from hyperspace, instead of appearing from far away? It was like nothing he'd ever felt before. Dimly, he became aware of the proximity alarm and absent-mindedly moved to shut it off.

"Kanan…" Ezra exclaimed in soft wonderment.

"What do you see?" Kanan asked.

"Okay… the nearest ship is a dark grey, it looks like a pointed cylinder with a pair of flared caps on either end and it just… _coalesced_. One second there was empty space, then there was this ship with, like, _lightning_ blazing out from the caps at either end for a second." He paused and Kanan could hear him swallow. "Then lots more like it started appearing in the same way. Our sensors say there's over three hundred of them."

"Over three hundred," Kanan echoed in disbelief, before his mind started to tick over again. "Three hundred…wait a minute," he said. "Compare the readings on these ships with the fleet that appeared over Alderaan," he ordered, reaching out with the Force as he did so. He couldn't sense any malice from the people in the fleet towards them… although, with the _Phantom_ in low-power mode, there was a good chance that the small shuttle hadn't been detected yet, and the _Ghost_ and the _Restoration_ , well in-system, shouldn't be detectable yet.

"You're right," Ezra announced after the computer displayed the results. "It's a near-certainly that these are the same ships. Do you reckon it's a coincidence that they've come to the same system we're supposed to meet Bail Organa in?" The tone of the last question was clearly rhetorical.

A beep from the console interrupted the silence. "We're being hailed?" Ezra exclaimed in surprise.

Kanan didn't answer immediately as he gauged the newcomer's sensations through the Force. Finally, he reached out and punched the comm button. "This is the _Phantom_."

"This is Viceroy Bail Organa of Alderaan, recognition code -" and the voice rattled off a string of letters and numerals. It sounded correct but Kanan had a better way to confirm whether it was indeed the Viceroy as he stretched out with the Force…

There. Not on the ship in front of them, but another one, towards the centre of the fleet. Through the five years he'd known Bail, he'd learnt to recognise the calm, collected and sharp Force-signature of the Senator.

"Viceroy, this is Kanan Jarrus. You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice."

"I can take a very good guess," the Viceroy replied. "It was a near thing. I'm quite happy I had this convenient fleet just overhead to whisk me away." There was some background laughter over the comm at this statement; obviously the Viceroy trusted them enough to contact a Rebel cell whilst in their midst. "It's good to hear your voice as well. How did you go with my last-minute errand?"

"We've had some success, Viceroy; we've acquired fifteen units, and there's a Mon Calamari repair ship, the _Restoration_ , in orbit around the third planet."

"Excellent work, Spectres, that's just what we need."

"There's also a Mon Calamari vice-admiral aboard that ship, Viceroy; he tagged along and he seems quite anxious to meet you."

"Admiral Ackbar?"

So, obviously the Viceroy has been in contact with the Mon Calamari… "Yes. That's a very good guess, Viceroy."

"It pays to do research beforehand, Kanan; takes much of the guesswork out of it." There was a brief pause, as if he'd turned away from the pickup for a moment. "Kanan, the Fleet's setting a course for the third planet now and would like to know if you want a lift."

"That would be greatly appreciated, Viceroy."

"Alright, I'll sign off now; the captain of the HMS _Warspite_ will be in contact next. Bail Organa out."

"Any idea which one is the Warspite?" Kanan asked.

"Nope," Ezra responded. "The ships have writing on their sides but it's in a language I can't… hang on," He was silent for a moment. "Okay, _that_ was cool."

"Care to elaborate?" Kanan asked, a bit irritated.

"Oh. Sorry," Ezra replied with a chastened tone. "The ship closest to us just changed the writing on the hull to Aurebesh, like it was a datascreen. Now it says _Warspite_."

"It probably always said _Warspite_ , just in their script," Kanan commented offhandedly. Adaptive hull coatings, he mused. During his galactic travels, Kanan had heard of such things, but never seen them; according to some, the very best allowed a ship so treated to redirect and mask their various radiation emissions so as to seem like a 'hole in space', as it were. He silently wondered what other tricks the newcomers had up their collective sleeves.

"Shuttle Phantom, this is Captain Joanna Dushku of Her Majesty's Ship _Warspite_ , do you read me?" The voice coming out of the comm spoke in Basic with an accent, but was still understandable.

"Captain Dushku, this is Kanan Jarrus on board the Phantom, reading you loud and clear."

"Kanan, if you don't mind, we're going to put a tractor beam on you and start bringing you around to our boat bays."

"That's fine." Almost as soon as he'd answered, Kanan felt the Phantom shudder as the tractor beam locked on and began dragging the shuttle towards the closest ship he could sense.

"We'd normally let approaching ships fly a bit closer, especially at your current speed, but the Admiral is keen to meet the repair ship, and we can't get going until you're aboard or under safe tow. And since we're at the vanguard of the fleet, nobody else can get going until we get going."

"I understand, Captain."

"Thank you, Kanan; we look forward to welcoming you aboard. _Warspite_ out."

"They're dragging us in pretty quickly," Ezra continued commenting. "I can't see their whole hull, but I haven't seen any sublight drives yet…hey!"

"What now?"

"The stars just disappeared!"

Despite five years without eyes, the urge to blink in surprise was still just as strong. "What do you mean, 'disappeared'?"

Ezra didn't answer immediately, and Kanan could hear him tweaking the shuttle's sensor controls.

"We're moving- well, the _Warspite_ is moving, and quickly - but I don't know how. I couldn't see any engines…"

"But?"

Ezra tweaked some sensor controls. "Our gravwell sensors are saying that there's a gravity field up above us, and below. They appeared at the same time the stars disappeared - not all the stars, though, I can see them out the front and behind - but up above and below, it's like a pair of black screens just appeared."

C _uriouser and curiouser_ , Kanan thought. "Project a strong enough gravity well, and light won't get through to the other side," he muttered, running through his basic astrophysics, "but gravity wells shaped as flat plates?" He shook his head, mentally rueing his earlier thought about 'other tricks'.

"We're almost in their landing bay," Ezra remarked, "so I guess we'll have plenty of time to ask them how they do it soon enough."


	4. Chapter 4

The starlines faded to be replaced by Garrketh III, and a fresh surge of anticipation surged through Princess Leia Organa, which she tried to quash as quickly as she could.

"Chewie, are our babysitters with us?" The Wookiee rumbled a reply in the affirmative, and after pointing the _Millennium Falcon_ at the planet, Han Solo turned languidly in his seat to face Leia.

"We're starting our approach to Garrketh III and expect to be landing in thirty minute's time. Could I please ask that you return to your seat and secure your seat belt and personal items -"

"I've had them secure all the time, Captain Solo, since your flying leaves so much to be desired." The slight smile on her face took the sting out of her statement, although Solo still looked hurt as he turned back to the controls, muttering under his breath about ungrateful customers whilst Chewbacca urfed in amusement. His muttering trailed off as he looked out of the viewport at the nearing planet, then at the space around the Falcon.

"We're still a few light-seconds out, but I'd've thought we'd be seeing the signs of a fleet in orbit already. I mean, normal Imperial procedure is to have a picket out here - even if these aren't Imperials - but there's nothing."

Whilst Leia wasn't as handy on Imperial fleet procedures as Han was, he was right in that they should be seeing a welcoming committee flying out to intercept them, as was doctrine in the Alliance as well. "What does Luke see?" she asked.

"I'll ask Luke and Lieutenant Antilles if they can see anything," Han responded pointedly, and Leia felt her cheeks redden slightly as he made the call. She'd felt a connection to the young Tatooine man as soon as she'd seen him, but that didn't excuse her from not remembering Wedge Antilles in the other X-wing escorting them. She felt so strongly about Luke, in fact, that she was feeling thoroughly confused about her feelings for a slightly older man…

"I don't see anybody else out here either, Captain Solo," Wedge replied.

"You're right in that it's not procedure," Luke continued from the other X-wing, "and we're still too far away to see anything in orbit yet. But…" His voice trailed off, in what Leia was beginning to recognise as a sign he was dipping into the Force.

"R2, see if you can point a laser along bearing 110-mark-300 relative." There was an answering tweet from the astromech droid in the X-wing, whilst Leia quietly turned and checked the scope along the bearing Luke had mentioned. So far, there was nothing there on passives…

" _Contact!_ We're being lased!" The Falcon's threat receiver warbled briefly as well before falling silent, but Leia didn't release the breath she was holding until both Han and Chewbacca relaxed.

"A com laser, Your Highness," Han explained, flipping the comm system to the correct setting. "Pretty close, as well - way less than a light-second. Let's see what they have to say."

"Can we ask what's lasing us?" Leia asked rhetorically; such stealth was astonishing, as there was still nothing other than the laser on passives, and a cloaking device wouldn't even let the laser out.

"Unknown vessels, please confirm your identity," asked a voice in accented Basic.

"Transmitting now," Han replied, as Leia flicked the switch next to the already-set-up card reader.

"Thank you, and welcome to the Garrketh system, Millennium Falcon and escort," the voice replied after a short delay. "We await your arrival, particularly as we'd like to ask how you managed to identify where our drone was through stealth. Our engineers are having conniptions over here."

"Oh, we have a variety of talents in our little group," Han replied, before turning to Leia and mouthing _drone_?

Leia shook her head initially, as there was still nothing on the scopes -

And then it appeared, cylindrical with rounded ends, slightly larger than an X-wing and just over a hundred thousand kilometres away.

"I see it! Just…" came the call from Wedge, before he disappointedly added, "And now it's gone again." On the _Falcon_ 's scopes, the drone also faded from view.

Han and Leia exchanged looks, wide-eyed. "It doesn't look manned," Han said softly.

"I don't think it is. And it's quite happily keeping pace with us."

"Then who's talking to us, and from how far away?"

"I don't know. If it's a relay…"

He turned around in his seat at Chewbacca's bark as he felt the Falcon's lateral acceleration and after quickly looking at the instruments, flicked the comm back to the X-wing channels. "Luke? Are you OK out there?"

"I'm alright, Han," he answered as he angled the X-wing in front of the Falcon. "Our hosts asked if I could find where they are without their assistance."

Han's brow furrowed as he parsed Luke's explanation. "They asked what?"

"Luke," Leia interjected, "this is no time for fun and games, from either them or you!"

"It's not a game, Leia," replied Luke with what seemed to be a touch of exasperation. "I think it's a test. Of my Force abilities."

"What?!" Han yelped, as Leia exclaimed "Really!" and even Chewbacca gave a yowl of derision.

"Guys, calm down," Luke responded in a soothing tone. "I can already feel them. All of them. Even the ones behind us…"

"Behind- !" Han's voice was beginning to show his growing anger.

"Just follow me; they're waiting for us on the starward side of the planet," Luke said, quite confidently. "It'll be fine."

Pilot and co-pilot shared a look, before Han threw up his hands in defeat and Chewbacca keyed the Falcon to follow the small starfighter, whilst Han turned to share another look with Leia.

"Just between you and me, Princess," he began, "I don't care that this Force power helped him blow up a super-station without the targeting computer. It's beginning to unnerve me just how much he's starting to use it."

"You don't understand, Han," Leia countered. "It's a part of him and his heritage. He can no more deny it than you or I stop breathing."

Han, for once, didn't have a ready counter for this. From what the kid had told him - as told to him by old Ben Kenobi - it pretty much ran in the family.

Family. Like Luke, Han was an orphan, but he had no family history to twist people's perceptions one way or the other. Everything that the wider galaxy saw of Han Solo, he had built himself. There was no family in the background to cast either shadow or light.

"However," Leia began again, and Han quickly stopped his woolgathering, "I don't understand who out there decided to make a simple in-system approach a test for Luke. Who knows of him and his abilities, and what are they trying to find out?"

Han thought that he'd like to find the answers to those questions as well… mainly to get the worried look off Leia's face. She looked so much better, he thought, without the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders.

* * *

" _Father! Mother!_ " Throwing decorum, grace and whatever other regal manners she had to the wind, Leia ran across the landing bay and into her parent's embrace. See-Threepio followed at a more sedate pace, but was still just as thrilled to be back with his masters.

Back underneath the _Falcon_ , both landing party and welcoming party stopped to look on the joyful reunion, before the flame-haired woman in black and gold turned back to the arrivals. "Well, given the circumstances, I supposed that can be excused," she commented with a wry grin.

Han gave her a shrug and a lopsided smile, before holding out his hand, which the woman accepted. "Han Solo, captain of the _Millennium Falcon_."

"Commodore Ginger Lewis, second-in-command, Expedition Fleet Train." At Han's querying look, she continued. "That basically means this ship, the Fleet armoury ship HMS _Charles de Bange_ , and our sister ships in the Havenite contingent, the _Sir John Fisher_ and the _Heroult_."

Han nodded in understanding, then indicated Chewbacca. "My First Mate, Chewbacca of Kashyyyk. He's a Wookiee."

"A wookiee," Lewis repeated slowly, wracking her brains for the English word, whilst taking the tall, hairy being's surprisingly soft paw. "I'm sorry, I'm still learning Basic. What does 'wookiee' mean?"

Chewbacca threw back his head in a bellow of laughter - which still nearly sounded like an attack cry to the assembled officers - and Han was struggling not to join in. "Wookiee is their species," he explained. "You see a tall, hairy thing like this, looks like a walking carpet, able to dismember humans - that's a Wookiee."

"Ah. I see." The Commodore's smile was frozen on her face, her hand still enveloped in Chewbacca's oversize paw. "Welcome aboard Her Majesty's Ship _Bessemer_ , First Mate Chewbacca, and my apologies for any insult."

Chewbacca didn't see to be anything but amused and pleased to make her acquaintance, judging by his body language and softer yowls he was making. Giving his paw one last firm shake, Lewis turned to the other two men that Han was indicating, now that they had made their way from their starfighters with astromech droids following close behind. "Lieutenants Wedge Antilles and Luke Skywalker, of the Rebel Alliance."

The two flightsuited officers stepped in front of Lewis, came to attention and snapped off salutes - Wedge's textbook, Luke's a little uneven but passable - which she accepted with a salute of her own, before offering her hand. "Lieutenants."

"Commodore," they replied, taking her hand in turn.

"These were two of the pilots involved on the attack on the Death Star," Han expanded from beside them. "Luke here fired the shot which ended the whole thing."

Luke coloured slightly. "I couldn't have done it all on my own - as well as Lieutenant Antilles here, I also had help from a certain scoundrel smuggler captain," he replied, turning to look at Han. The older man responded by putting his hands in his pockets and adopting an air of 'who, me?'.

"They all helped." Leia had rejoined their gathering, parents in tow and eyes still puffy and red. "They're all heroes, and they've earned our highest honour and thanks - including you, Han Solo."

She turned to the Viceroy and indicated Luke. "That's him."

Bail stepped closer to Luke, examining him. As the seconds ticked by, Luke became more and more nervous until he finally managed to ask "…Sir?"

Bail blinked and shook his head briefly. "My apologies, Lieutenant…Luke. I was just marvelling at the resemblance, to both your mother and your father."

Luke was stuck for words briefly. "I… my mother? My father? Is there any chance…" He fell silent, mouth working.

Bail shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Luke… but both your parents unfortunately passed away at the very end of the Clone Wars. Your father was killed by Darth Vader and your mother passed away in childbirth, apparently heartbroken by your father's death. Did Obi-Wan not tell you this?"

Luke didn't answer immediately as he attempted to gain control of his emotions. "He did, sir. He did. It's just… one thing hearing it from one person, but then to have confirmation from somebody else…"

Bail reached out and clasped Luke's shoulder. "I understand." He smiled gently, and for a moment, Luke imagined him as his own father.

Bail finally let go and stepped back, briefly exchanging glances with Breha. "Luke… Leia. It's time." He paused to take a deep breath before continuing. "I have information that relates to both of you that I believe is now appropriate to share, but not here. If you would come with me please?"

Luke and Leia exchanged glances of their own, wondering what possible connection the two of them could have, before Luke stepped forward, falling in beside the Viceroy as the other people in the landing bay looked on in equal bewilderment.

Han stepped close to Wedge. "That kid has a disturbing habit of finding himself in the middle of big stuff."

"Quite," Wedge replied. They both stood and watched the quartet exit the bay, trailed by C-3PO.

"Gentlemen?" Both of them turned at the quiet query from the Commodore. "It seems that introductions have a habit of being interrupted in this part of the galaxy." She indicated the other officers standing to one side. "If I may -"

She never got there - a howling klaxon pierced the air and everyone else in the bay began running, whilst Lewis' fellow officers stepped off their line, approaching the Commodore whilst she muttered curses under her breath in her own language. Wedge remained still, however the urge to move could be clearly seen in his countenance. Chewbacca let out a bellow of indignation as he held his paws over his more-sensitive ears.

Han had been around enough militaries to understand what was going on - still, it was good to get confirmation. "Battle stations? We're under attack?" he asked, leaning in to be heard over the klaxon.

"Yes!" Lewis confirmed. "Dammit, we -" she slipped back into her own language briefly.

"What was that?" Wedge asked.

"Never mind!" She turned and snapped out orders to her staff, who scattered, save one very young boy.

"This is Marco Hernandez," Ginger began, indicating the boy. "He's my- thank goodness for that," she said, as the klaxon cut out. They were one of the very few people in the bay still dressed in black, as other people in white spacesuits began running in. "He's my flag lieutenant, and has applied himself very well to learning Basic."

Han sized up the youngster, fully understanding that he, Chewie and Wedge were being given a babysitter. Lieutenant Hernandez - Han made careful note of the differences in markings between the Commodore and the Lieutenant - looked them both over as well, and Han suddenly found himself reappreciating the experience and professionalism of the boy. Luke Skywalker of Tatooine, this lieutenant was not.

Commodore Lewis turned and gave another order to the lieutenant in her language, who nodded and replied in Basic. "Yes Ma'am. Can I suggest repeating that in Basic to Lieutenant Antillies, Captain Solo and Chewbacca?"

The Commodore favoured the lieutenant with a droll look, which he smiled back at. "Just doing my job, Ma'am."

"Ah, Marco," the Commodore replied with a smile. "I don't know where I'd be without you." She nodded at him as he braced to attention, before leaving the bay at a run herself.

"So, Lieutenant Hernandez," Han began, as he took the offered hand, "Since the good Commodore never got around to telling us what she wanted you to do with us, would you care to fill us in?"

"Certainly," the lieutenant replied confidently. "We're going to the main bridge. She was worried that we don't have skin suits for you - even if we had a size that could fit Chewbacca - so we're taking you to one of the best-protected parts of the ship." As he talked, he started towards the hatch into the rest of the ship at a clip that Wedge and Han had to struggle to keep up with. Behind them, the two astromech droids let out anxious trills and diverted extra power to their drives to maintain pace.

"The main bridge? How is that well-protected, if it's at the top-front of a ship?" Wedge asked.

"Not in these ships, it isn't," Hernandez replied. "We put the main bridge as close as we can to the centre of the ship."

Hence why it would be the most protected part of the ship. Makes sense, Han thought. "Very well. Lead on."

Hernandez did so, cocking his head after a few steps. "You know, it's odd hearing that phrase without 'Macduff' at the end."

"Who?"

* * *

On the flag bridge of the superdreadnought HMS King Roger III, Vice-Admiral Terekhov peered into the holotank. "Just the one?"

"Just the one," Commander Abigail Hearns confirmed at her station. "It made it's translation much father out than ships normally would with the standard hyperdrive they have - it's over ten light-minutes out from the primary."

"And we're sitting a minute further in from them." On the other side of the bridge, Captain Graeme Petram, Terekhov's chief-of-staff, was running his own analysis on the CIC data at his station. "So, with light-speed sensors… is that right, Admiral Ackbar?"

An image of Admiral Ackbar's head floated just to the side of the holotank and he nodded in agreement. "Yes, they would only have light-speed sensors, just like the _Restoration_. Admiral Terekhov, the doctrinal innovation shown by your navies' use of hyper-comm-capable remote sensing platforms is astonishing."

Terekhov nodded, grinning. "Indeed Admiral; you can see why it's a game-changer - they've got to wait two minutes before they even get a hint of us. Now, what's your thoughts on why it's dropped in so far out?"

"I believe it's conducting reconnaissance."

Terekhov felt a chill down his spine as the implications sank in. "So, the Empire suspects we're here, despite our precautions."

"It appears so, Admiral."

"But how?" Captain Ingrid Dellacquer, Terekhov's intelligence officer, piped up. "We've vetted everyone who -"

"Not now, Ingrid," Terekhov interrupted. "But hold that thought and run with it; if you suspect a leak, we need to get on top of it quick-smart. Admiral Ackbar, your suggestions to be able to avoid detection?"

"If they follow standard Imperial practice, they will be launching starfighters on a standard search pattern -"

"Confirming that, Admirals," Hearns said from her Ops console, "fighter separation observed."

"- and as soon as they report a contact, they will send out a dispatch of what they've found before either engaging or departing," Admiral Ackbar concluded. "We have taken care of the reporting part - the _Restoration_ carries a full jamming and countermeasures suite as standard, which we activated as soon as their arrival was reported."

Which was well and good, Terekhov thought, but… "Will they know they're being jammed?"

"Yes they will," Admiral Ackbar said. "However, we've tuned the system so that it mimics a small-scale pirate operation. So they should proceed in-system to investigate and seek to engage."

"Hmm." Terekhov leaned back in his command seat, running though the implications in his head. "A single Victory-class Star Destroyer, that we now have to destroy. Admiral, if this was your fleet of Mon Calamari ships, how would you rate the difficulty of this task?"

"Difficult, but not impossible," Ackbar responded. "However, we have to prevent that ship jumping to hyperspace at a minimum."

"Alright," Terekhov responded. "Who's closest?"

"Cruiser squadron 48, sir," Abigail responded.

"Ah! Commodore Kaplan?"

"Yes sir," Abigail confirmed, a wolfish smile starting to spread across her face. "She's already vectoring her ships to bracket, and she's got a plan of engagement - sir, the latest signal from her says that she's considering Plan Charlie."

"Plan Charlie, hmm?" Terekhov called up Plan Charlie from BatCruRon 48 on his personal view

screen and looked at it. It wasn't the ruthless first-kill plan that Naomi usually preferred; instead, this plan sought to test the abilities of their weaponry against Imperial defences. Whilst their allies had given them plenty of information on how strong those defences should be, Terekhov knew that there was often a large gap between theory and practice.

He nodded, coming to a decision. "Plan Charlie it is. Signal Commodore Kaplan to engage at her discretion."

* * *

As an author's aside, FTL communication in the Star Wars universe is trivial; no-one's got the idea yet for warships to have FTL-capable remote platforms. Making these, with the abundance of droid technology in the Star Wars universe, is also trivial...


	5. Chapter 5

A brief refresher on distances in space:

\- The Moon is 1.3 light-seconds away from Earth (384,400 kilometres, 240,000 miles).

\- At closest approach, Mars is 177 light-seconds away (53,000,000 kilometres or 32,000,000 miles).

* * *

It was very odd, Commander Praistyn Curchel thought, that she had to get used to the lack of stares from the all-male crew in the bridge pits as she walked up the centre bridge gantry, after spending most of her career being stared at by men in other ships. But that was just another of the benefits of serving under Captain Kuryl Maksin of the Victory-II-class Star Destroyer _Vengeance_.

By rights, Kuryl Maksin should be commanding an Imperial-class Star Destroyer, if not a squadron of them, and he knew it too, having just as much ambition as the next Imperial officer. What he possessed that many other Imperial officers didn't was innate leadership skills that meant that he was genuine and fair to his officers and crew, and the officers and crew repaid him with a fearless loyalty that was almost unheard of on other Fleet ships. Unfortunately, the Imperial Star Fleet being what it was, many officers advanced through cronyism and nepotism and commanded their crews through fear. Maksin refused to play the games of the Fleet bureaucracy, so he remained a captain of a less-prestigious ship.

The rules of the game, however, had now changed. Following the destruction of the Death Star by Rebels flying snub-fighters - _snub-fighters!_ \- Rebel-hunting was the biggest game in town. And

Captain Maksin was sure he had a Sabacc hand this time.

Commander Curchel stopped a couple of paces behind where the captain was standing on the prow of the bridge and cleared her throat. "Sir, Signals have completed their initial analysis of the jamming and while the emissions may be coming from a system a particularly resourceful pirate gang may have, they also suspect that it is from a more sophisticated system that is being manipulated to deceive us."

Maksin didn't turn around but nodded slowly as he digested the information. "And what does Intelligence make of Signal's analysis?"

"They believe that it's likely that the operators are a Rebel cell," Curchel replied with a slight smile.

Maksin spun around, an expression of delight on his face. "Do they really?" he asked with mock surprise. Grinding broadly, he clapped his hand together before rubbing them together in glee as he began to stride back down the central gantry. "Well then, it appears our source was correct!"

"Our source?" Curchel queried.

"Oh, semantics," the captain replied, even though it had been his source alone that had traced a Rebel ship from Lothal to here. "So, am I correct in surmising that Group Captain Jantunen is launching our TIE-Jammers as we speak?"

Curchel stopped and took a deep breath, which caused Maksin to stop as well and face her. "Sir, I regret to inform you that during pre-flight checks, all three TIE-Jammers had to be down-checked due to power system faults," she replied, an apologetic expression on her face.

The smile fell from Maksin's moustachioed and goatee'd face and Curchel could see the disappointment in his eyes. "Sir, I've taken the liberty of ordering Navigation to -"

"Yes, of course," Maksin replied with a wave of his hand, and turned towards the starboard viewports as Curchel looked down at the Navigation station and nodded, before joining the captain as the ship began to swing to port, in order to get a better fix on the jamming source.

"Sir," she began a bit timidly, before Maksin cut her off.

"Oh, relax, Commander," he said in a conversational tone. "I'm well aware that Jantunen and Lieutenant Commander Rigel are probably just as disappointed, if not more so, at this latest failure and that they're doing everything in their efforts to develop a fix. Why, I'm quite surprised," he continued, cupping a hand to his ear with a smile, "that I can't hear their bellowing yet."

Curchel smiled back - Jantunen and Rigel liked to yell at the top of their voices when upset, but that was because they were passionate, not because they had short tempers.

"In fact, given this setback, I'm very much inclined to grant their requests for a - ahem - visit to the Seinar system," he quipped.

"A pity that the admiral wouldn't join us," Curchel replied.

"A pity? Nonsense. He doesn't care - that's why we can be here now instead of on our patrol route," Maksin said with contempt. "Oh, he'd start tearing his hair out at the thought of losing his patronage from Seinar Flight Systems but the condition of those TIE-Jammers are a perfect example of his disregard for people like us." Curchel shifted slightly, a bit anxious at his tone and critique of his superiors, but it was merely a reflex from long years spent on other ships where secret Imperial Security Bureau agents salted through the crew were ready to snitch on any 'seditious' remarks. She'd learnt rather quickly after boarding the _Vengeance_ that ISB didn't seem to have any agents aboard and that the crew thought the same way as their captain in any regard.

"Anyways," he continued, "that's why we've got the old methods to fall back on. Let's see how Signals are doing, shall we?"

"Yes, sir," Curchel responded with a nod of her head and turned to head off the bridge, but she hadn't got more than a couple of paces before a call from the crew pit distracted her.

"Yes, what is it?" she asked as she looked down on the Astrogation station.

"Ma'am, we've got an issue with the star fixer," reported the lieutenant behind the Astrogator's station, "or maybe it's picking up objects out there. We're not sure."

She frowned at the report. Modern astrogation relied mainly on a network of superluminal beacons maintained by Imperial Galactic Cartography Department but as a backup instrument, the star fixer was just as important. "That's not very encouraging, Lieutenant. Can you explain further?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, activating the holoprojector. "We're getting eclipsed stars in these fields," and starting at the holomodel of the _Vengeance_ , lines sprang out from the dorsal and ventral sensor clusters to indicate eight small rectangular patches in space around the ship, each approximately forty-five degrees off the x, y and z planes. "We noticed them just before we came about to start the jammer bearing-fixing sweep, and we also noticed that they almost remained fixed relative to the ship."

"Almost?"

"Yes Ma'am. The star fixer has a rather slow refresh rate, but it was able to catch the relative movement of the eclipsing fields as we turned."

"And were they there, at these angles, when we came out of hyperspace?"

"Ma'am, I have Astrogation doing a thorough analysis of the star fixer images since then but my brief review indicates that we had full views initially."

"Ma'am," came another call, this time from Hyper Control in the opposite pit, and Curchel looked around to the other station. "We've been getting low-level gravity signals along the same general bearings as well, plus some other low-level gravitic interference. Thing is, Ma'am, those gravity signals increased in strength slightly as we came about."

Curchel straightened at this bit of information and stared at the holoprojection, mind beginning to switch to high gear. Eclipsed stars and low-level gravitation…

"Ships," she muttered under her breath.

"I agree." She jumped slightly at Maksin's voice behind her, and he flashed her a quick apologetic smile before turning to the portside crew pit. "Fire Control, I want solutions on those signal bearings, as best you can."

Curchel was quick on his heels with an order of her own. "Starfighter Ops, vector fighters to investigate."

"Yes, ma'am, but they've already swept an area ten light-seconds out with nothing seen yet."

"Understood, but send them out as far as possible anyways. We'll manoeuvre to retrieve if necessary." As the crewman responded in the affirmative, she stepped closer to Maksin. "Sir -"

She was cut off by a flash of light from the starboard viewport, and she snapped her head around to dimly see another damaged TIE fighter spiralling out of control before it, too, exploded in a blazing fireball. There was a brief moment of silence on the bridge, before -

"EMDAR!" Maksin snapped.

"On it, sir!" came the response.

"Ma'am, I'm getting massive gravitation along that bearing!" Hyper Control called.

" _Contact_!" This time it was EMDAR Control. "Vessel is unknown configuration, approximately missile shaped and forty meters in length, seven hundred kilometres away and accelerating fast - contact lost!"

"Hyper Control! Gravitics?"

"Good fix, Ma'am."

"Send your fix to Fire Control, Hyper," Maksin ordered. "Designate as Target Alderaan."

"Received - good solutions!"

"Fire!"

The deck vibrated as the secondary turbolaser batteries fired and Curchel saw the bolts splash off an unseen object in space. There was a curse from Fire Control, and then a storm of fire lanced out from the batteries along bracketing vectors. This time, she had to use the viewport magnification controls to see whether the shots landed on target and by the time the main turbolaser batteries had found their mark, it was two seconds after firing before the light from the explosion of the target reached the bridge.

"Two second's delay," Curchel said, astonished. "That means a light-second away - in forty seconds, from only 150 kilometres away when our TIEs were destroyed."

Maksin nodded, astonishment and worry on his face as well, before they were both distracted by another shout from EMDAR.

"Torpedo separation! Fifty, repeat five-zero torpedoes inbound from bearings 045-mark-044 and mark-315, 135-mark-044 and mark-316, 225-mark-046 and mark-316, and 316-mark-045 and mark-314! Range -" the crewman stopped briefly, double-checking his screen - "ninety light-seconds!"

"A minute and a half?" Curchel murmured, a cold feeling settling in her gut. That was essentially how long ago the torpedoes had been launched - time the _Vengeance_ had lost to respond.

"Battle stations," Maksin ordered, then remarked more quietly to Curchel, "Best get down to AuxConn."

"Yes, sir," she responded and after being formally relieved, turned and jogged off the bridge to the turbolift. She felt the _Vengeance_ shudder from impact as she was still in the lift, but it didn't seem too bad, a fact soon confirmed after she strode into Auxiliary Command, buried deep within the Star Destroyer's primary hull.

"Our fighters managed to pick off ten," remarked Lieutenant Castran at Starfighter Ops, "but the attackers are wreaking havoc with our starfighter group."

Curchel winced. A Victory-class Star Destroyer only barely had room for two squadrons of fighters. "Any idea on who's attacking us yet?" she asked, as she watched turbolaser bolts fire into the emptiness.

"Unsure, Ma'am," said Lieutenant Commander I'Lst at the Intelligence station. "Whoever they are, they're launching at ranges far outside what's been observed in the Galaxy beforehand, they've got some extremely strong deflectors - we managed a full-salvo strike with our main guns on one of the launch positions before the torpedoes hit, but it looks like they moved when we were blinded by the torpedo detonations - and the torpedo themselves are odd. The close-range missiles had nuclear fusion warheads."

"Excuse me?" Once again, Curchel was surprised. "When was the last time nuclear weapons were used in interstellar combat? They weren't _fission_ -ignited weapons, were they?"

"Doesn't seem like it, although there were two detonations, the same with the standoff weapons - and those were nuclear-pumped X-ray lasing devices. Still powerful, though - I'd estimate one torpedo to be equivalent to about half the energy of a main turbolaser bolt?"

"Well, let's hope they don't concentrate their fire," Curchel replied, as the holo-display showed a hundred and sixty-five torpedoes appearing, ninety light-seconds out.

All she could do was sit back in the command chair and listen to the orders and reports flowing back and forth as the _Vengeance_ and her star-fighter group sought to thin out the torpedo swarms. They still hadn't got any star-fighters out further than thirty light-seconds and the torpedoes used that time to build up their speed - estimated acceleration figures of 85,000 times standard gravity-equivalent popped up on her personal screen to the side of the command chair, along with a corrected maximum speed of 60% of lightspeed. As the torpedoes got into range of the star-fighters first, and then the _Vengeance_ 's point-defence batteries, they began to weave wildly in an obviously-preprogrammed and effective evasive sequence. The star-fighter group had issues of their own, with what appeared to be a couple of blast-boats out there flicking their own small missiles after the fighters and every now and again a TIE fighter would be caught by an invisible knife in space as they sought to turn the tables on their attackers. She felt a small pulse of satisfaction as one of the blast-boats got too close to the _Vengeance_ and was knocked out by the main batteries - surprisingly easily, it seemed, given the toughness of their deflectors - but it was short-lived as her fears came true, and the torpedoes - less fifteen of their original number - swept in, split apart, and then coalesced like shoals of fish before detonating ten thousand kilometres away.

This time, the _Vengeance_ lurched as X-ray lasers stabbed at her dorsal and ventral drive bulkhead, just forward of the main engine nozzles, and a third group detonated in sequence to deliver a massive laser pulse to her star-fighter bay. Curchel felt herself nearly thrown out of her chair as the ship's inertial dampening field failed to react fully to the sudden acceleration, and the lights dimmed and flickered as the power system buckled.

"Report!" Curchel called out, gasping at the sharp pain in her neck and shoulders as her head whipped back and forth. The first response were moans of pain, and she staggered out of the chair once the deck stabilised somewhat to check on her crew.

"Severe damage to the main engine spaces," a crewman began to report. "They're open to space, and there's reports of heavy casualties. Also severe damage to the star-fighter bay and related facilities. It appears that we've lost the remainder of our star-fighter squadrons and pilots too."

Curchel felt sick. She'd had a wonderful rapport with the fighter pilots on the _Vengeance_ , which had been a nice change from the antagonism she'd experienced on her last ship. Now they were gone, to the last man. She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and fighting down her nausea.

"Keep going," she responded, moving to the next person - Lieutenant Commander I'Lst, as it turned out. Whilst the other men she'd checked so far only had bruises, grazes and in one case, a broken arm, I'Lst had a nasty head wound from where he'd struck the panel and was out cold.

"Our manoeuvrability is gone - we're effectively drifting on our last vector, but there's nothing to run into - yet." Somebody laughed in the dim room, which brought a smile to her face - they were battered, but still had spirit. "There's some damage to our main reactor as well, but it appears we have power to our main turbolaser battery and portions of our secondary battery."

"So we can't point the ship anywhere in a hurry, but we can still shoot back," she summarised, as another crewman hurried over with a first-aid kit. "Can we contact the bridge?"

"I'm not sure," the Comms officer replied. "Internal communications are still a bit scrambled..." He flicked a few switched on his console, then announced, "I think I've got something." He hit a final switch and the holoscreen came to life.

It wasn't Captain Kuryl Maksin who appeared on the screen. In fact, it wasn't even human. And it was demanding surrender.

* * *

"So, Commander… your thoughts?"

This time it definitely was Captain Maksin on the holoscreen, as grim-faced as she had ever seen him, but still with that calculating look to his eyes. Defeated he may be, but his mind was still attempting to think of a way out of the situation.

"Sir, we still have a lot of our armament available. If we can trick them into approaching -"

"No." The captain's answer had a tone of finality to it. "They've already demonstrated that they can hit us, badly, from well outside our own effective engagement range. Our shields can't withstand the same energy as a score of turbolaser blasts concentrated onto a few square meters. These close-in drones that they use seem to be rigged for FTL communication, so they can see everything that we do whilst they sit in safety. I may have a reputation as one of the few honourable captains left in the Imperial Navy, Praystin; I'll be damned if I have that reputation tarnished in surrender."

"So what's your plan?"

"Plan? What makes you think I have a plan?"

Curchel couldn't hide the look of astonishment on her face. "I'd thought I knew you by now, sir; you always have a plan."

He chuckled. "I can generally think up a plan within the usual context of affairs, Commander. Against an enemy outside of that context, I can't think of anything yet; I need information. I can't make bricks without clay."

Curchel nodded in understanding. "Very well, sir. I…" She broke off as a sudden thought came to mind. "Sir - you know of the Camaas Convention?"

"Of course, Commander, and I certainly hope that the Rebels are aware of it too!"

"Including the section detailing the right of detainees to attempt escape?"

Maksin was now frowning in puzzlement. "I'm not sure where you're going with this, Commander."

"When was the last time you think that the Rebels took prisoners of war?"

Maksin opened his mouth…then closed it, and cocked his head in thought, before a smile slowly grew on his face. "Commander, you are a sneaky woman. I like it! Very well; I'll send the signal and then broadcast a general message to the crew. Maksin out."

For a moment, there was silence in Auxiliary Command; Curchel stayed still for a moment, thinking hard about the last Imperial Intelligence report on the Rebels. Then the clearing of a throat got her attention.

"Commander? Would you mind explaining for us please what's going to happen?"

She turned to face the rest of the crew in AuxConn. With a number of them sporting dressings of some sort, they certainly didn't look like the sharp Imperial Navy crew she'd seen this morning - certainly not with the expressions of uncertainty on their faces. She gave them all a slight smile.

"Certainly. You all saw the message from that Rebel - thing - demanding our surrender. Unfortunately, they have the upper hand on us - they can hit us from outside our weapons range and concentrate their fire better, and they have these FTL-capable drones so they can see how we react without having to come in close. So, while we may have most of our turbolasers still operational, without the ability to manoeuvre and without our star-fighter complement, our fighting ability is very compromised. So we're going to surrender."

There were mulish expressions on many of the crewmen's faces, which she understood perfectly - they were indoctrinated to never consider surrender.

"That may not be as bad as it sounds," she continued. "As Imperial Navy officers and enlisted crew, we will be doing all we can to successfully escape. Now, the latest Intelligence reports on the Rebels was that they were primarily a cellular organisation, with maybe one large base, which we all know now to be Yavin 4. And if I was them, I'd be evacuating that base as quickly as I could."

Some of the crewmen were beginning to show pensive looks on their faces as they mulled it through.

"So - despite their overwhelming victories to date, they are still a fragmented organisation, without a permanent base of operations and - excluding what we've run into here - without a deep space fleet, and most likely little experience in holding prisoners of war."

Her smile broadened. "So we'll let ourselves be captured, gather as much information on the Rebels as we can, then break out again as soon as the time is right." Now she received smiles and nods in return from her fellow crewmen, and she returned to the command chair with a pleased feeling as they all settled in to wait. The captain's voice came over the general address system, broadly repeating the same things Curchel had said a minute ago. Off to the side, she could see the _Vengeance_ 's running lights flash three times, as demanded, on an external view monitor and with her next breath, the tension of battle flowed away.

"Gun traverse."

Her head snapped around towards Fire Control, followed by everyone else's. "What?"

Lieutenant Commander Terrin slumped back in his chair in a defeated gesture before reporting.

"No. 5 Turbolaser is in manual control, traversing and elevating." Just then, the deck trembled slightly with the instantly-recognisable signature of a main turbolaser battery discharging.

The sick feeling returned to Curchel's stomach. The Empire designed its Star Destroyers so that every turbolaser battery had a manual gun crew, plus backup power, so that if the gun was cut off from central Fire Control for whatever reason, the crew of each gun could still fight their weapon. Of course, since Imperial ships would never disobey orders, overrides to prevent manual control weren't considered. _Not that I thought they would be required on this ship_ , Curchel mused as she brought up the battle stations roster for that turret, commanded by Lieutenant Opelsk. "Does it look like they have a target?" she asked as she worked her console.

"I can't find anything on my scopes," EMDAR responded, and Fire Control confirmed. "No targets in the queue at this time." The deck continued to shiver as the guns kept firing.

There. Opelsk was the youngest brother of three - and the last. The other two had perished on the Death Star.

"Torpedo separation," EMDAR Control called out. "Eighty-eight light-seconds out, one hundred and twenty signatures. Estimating impact in…three minutes and forty seconds, from previously observed performance."

Curchel frowned. "That's oddly light."

" _Second_ torpedo separation, same range, two hundred and sixty signatures."

"Ah." There was the missing piece. She leaned back in her seat as the impact alarm sounded,

analysing the problem from the other side - how to deal with a crippled but still-firing Star Destroyer.

The comm interrupted her, and Captain Maksic appeared on her screen. "My luck has run out on me again today," he mused.

"Luck has nothing to do with it," Curchel snapped back. "Grief-stricken or not, Opelsk is clearly insubordinate and if he survives this - if we survive this - I'll be disciplining him post-haste."

Maksic gave her a lopsided smile. "Have you ever heard of the phrase 'You make your own luck'? I knew Opelsk had brothers aboard the Death Star, and that he worshipped them. I should have taken your concerns more seriously."

Curchel nodded somberly. "Now he's going to join his brothers."

"As will I, Commander," Maksin said. "Take care of them for me, will you?"

"Yes sir. They've been very good to me so far; I'll see if I can pay some of that back."

"You've been a pleasure to serve with, Commander Curchel."

"Likewise, sir." A smile creased his face one last time, and then the screen went blank. Curchel settled back into the command chair as she swallowed the odd lump in her throat. "All set?" she asked, a smile flickering on her face as the men at the stations reported in the affirmative. Beneath them, the deck thrummed as No. 5 Turbolaser was joined by it's compatriots, but to little avail. It became increasingly difficult to move as the inertial dampening field strengthened in readiness for impact.

The missiles came in as she'd predicted in her head: salvos for the lateral batteries first, before another salvo popped up from underneath to target the main turbolaser turrets. Another fifty missiles gutted the command tower; the ten contact warheads following a few seconds later demolished the structure altogether.

* * *

Some footnotes:

1\. EMDAR: Electro-Magnetic Detection And Ranging. Radio, visible or invisible light; if it's in the EM spectrum and used to find stuff, these people operate it.

2\. 'Target Alderaan': The Star Wars version of the phonetic alphabet. Becomes a sick joke within the Imperial forces, whilst the Rebels adopt another version post-haste.


	6. Chapter 6

The hatch slid aside and Han Solo walked into the Skywalker-Organa suite's common room ( _or should that be 'Organa-Skywalker'?_ , he thought to himself) to find the twins in the same state he'd encountered them every afternoon this week: sprawled out on the closest available flat surface, soaked in sweat, and exhausted.

"Tough day at the office?" he asked by way of greeting. Leia, face-down on the sofa, said something that was muffled by the cushion her head was on. Han wasn't sure if she'd cursed him, Jedi Master Kanan Jarrus, her brother or the universe in general.

Said brother was flat on his back in the middle of the room, seemingly senseless to the world but he opened an eye to look up at Han as he approached before shutting it again. "Hi, Han," he murmured, wiggling his fingers.

Han stepped around Luke get to the armchair and settled himself in it, pausing for a moment to look at brother and sister with a grin. "So… when do you get to the telekinesis bit?"

Leia said something that was also muffled. "What was that, your Worshipfulness?" Han asked.

"Not soon enough!" came back the sharp retort, Leia shifting her head around so she could speak clearly. _Ah, that's the Princess we all know and love_ , Han thought.

Luke made a sound of disagreement from the floor. "I know it seems counterintuitive, but I've been a farmer for most of my life. I'd forgotten just how useful exercise can be in clearing the mind." He fell silent, clasping his hands over his belly, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"But?" Han vocalised the silent expression.

"Oh, it just seems odd that I've only been off Tatooine a standard month, and yet it seems like a lifetime away," Luke answered, but before Han could get too introspective, he continued. "However, finding out that the environmental controls have been fiddled with after the session isn't nice."

Han made a face. "How bad?"

"1.1 gravities and 100% humidity," complained Leia.

"Ow."

"Oh, yes," Luke said in agreement. "Especially when I'm used to having sweat dry off and cool me down. Still," and there was a brief pause before Luke shot off the floor, twisting in the air to land on his feet, and bowed at Han with a smile, as if he was a street performer. Han clapped and hollered in an only half-sarcastic show of appreciation.

Over on the couch, Leia roused at the noise to give both men a baleful glare. "Show-off," she muttered, before finally breaking into a smile as she rolled over onto her side. Han was struck by how pretty she still managed to look, even when disheveled and exhausted beyond the point of caring.

Luke smiled back at her and chuckled, before sitting down in the other armchair and regarding Han thoughtfully. "What's up?"

"Why do you think something's up?" Han retorted.

"Call it Jedi intuition." Han raised an eyebrow at this, but Luke's expression didn't change, so he gave a sigh and began.

"The Expedition fleet have finished all their hyperdrive checks and are preparing to move onto the next Alliance base, wherever that is," he said.

"As planned," Leia interjected, "So what's got you all worried then?"

Han paused. He hadn't expected this to be as hard as it was. Finally, as the silence began to stretch, he took a deep breath and forced it out.

"I'm leaving. _We're_ leaving - Chewie and I, in the _Falcon_. We have to leave."

There was no reply from the twins, just looks of resignation from Luke, and disappointment from Leia. Han shook his head and leant back in the chair, running a hand through his hair.

"It's not like that," he said with a sardonic half-smile. "I have to repay Jabba the Hutt, especially if I want to avoid a price being put on my head. That's the whole reason I ended up here - it all started when I took on Old Man Kenobi's 'no questions' fare, because I was getting desperate. Like you said Luke, it's been a standard month and I can't wait around any longer."

The expressions on the twins' faces changed to one of understanding. "So that's why Chewie was working on the _Falcon_ this morning," Luke murmured.

Leia shifted on the couch, sitting up and drawing her knees up to under her chin. "How long do you think you'll take?" she finally asked.

Han shrugged, a bit surprised by the question. "Well, we're about 100 light-years from the Alderaan System, and the _Falcon_ did Tatooine to Alderaan in about two-and-a-half standard days," he answered. "So the return trip isn't going to be much different." He shrugged again. "It's going to be a direct trip - no detours, and staying well clear of Imperials."

The twins shared a glance, before Leia turned away from Han and Luke leant forward in his seat. "That's not what Leia was asking," he said. "She wants to know when you'll be returning."

Han blinked - the thought of returning hadn't crossed his mind. "Uhhh…" He shifted in his chair uneasily, one hand going to stroke his chin as his mind fumbled for a suitable answer. "Honestly… well, Chewie and I are going to have to find some other work, because - hoping that Jabba is satisfied with my payment - I ain't going to work for him again."

"Why don't you come back and help us out with the Rebellion?" Luke responded earnestly. "You know Chewbacca's feelings about the Empire, and you're no friend of them either."

Han gave a snort. "Kid, you've only been in the big, wide galaxy for a month - you've got a lot to learn!" Luke's face fell, but Han was undeterred. "Honestly, you've got this big fleet of ships here to help you out now, and the Manticorians and Havenites seem professional - if a bit ruthless," he finished quietly. After standing on the bridge of the _Bessemer_ and watching the Star Destroyer get pounded to scrap for the loss of only one of their light-attack craft - followed by the no-nonsense boarding of the hulk by their Marines - he'd made a mental note not to give the Expedition a reason to come after him with blood in their eyes. "I don't think I'd be able to provide any more meaningful help to your resistance."

"Sometimes it's more than just the equipment and the ships," Leia said, softly but she was still facing the bulkhead and Han had to strain a bit to hear her. "It's the people in them that make all the difference."

"Like I said," Han replied, standing as the admittance chime signalled, "You've got yourselves the core of a pretty decent navy here. I'm sure you'll be fine, all of you." He crossed the room to open the door, finding Kanan on the other side - oddly preoccupied, it seemed - and he turned aside to let him in. "They're pretty tuckered out, Master. I'm not sure they'd stand up to much more torture," he quipped.

Kanan's response was a half-smile instead of indignation - not that Han cared too much if he'd insulted the blind Jedi. Instead, he took Kanan's entrance as his cue to leave, stopped only by Luke calling his name. "Yeah?"

Luke held his gaze for a second. "May the Force be with you, Han," he said solemnly.

Han flicked two fingers to his temple in a casual salute before striding out, leaving Kanan to regard his new students. "Don't believe a word of what Han said," he began. "We're going to practice some Force exercises - but these are designed to help you recover and relax. And," he continued, sensing the emotions of the twins, "I think you could both use a distraction right now."

* * *

" _Millennium Falcon_ , you are cleared for launch from Bay 4; you're the last launch before we make the jump to lightspeed," the flight controller announced.

" _Millennium Falcon_ , acknowledged," Han replied whilst Chewbacca completed the last of the pre-flight checklists as the repulsorlifts warmed up with their customary whine. Beyond the blue-ringed aperture holding in the bay's atmosphere, the star called Garrketh shone briefly before being eclipsed by its third planet as the fleet slowly made its way out of the gravity well for the hyperspace jump. In the darkness away from the planet, if Han squinted, he could just make out stars.

The Wookiee stowed the last checklist and urfed a 'ready' to Han, who twisted the top part of the sublight throttle to power up the repulsorlifts. Smoothly, the _Millennium Falcon_ rose off the deck of the bay and translated to port briefly, centering itself on the bay opening. Deftly, Han cancelled the sideslip, set his right hand on the sublight throttle and the other on the sidestick - and paused.

For years afterwards, he'd vehemently deny that the pause before departure was anything but sentimental. Just feeling his ship through the cockpit seat, he'd argue, using instincts and experience built up from years of flying the souped-up freighter to judge her readiness better than any readout. Certainly not sentimentality, nor guilt for leaving two people who'd been good to him.

No way.

But it had taken a querying grumble from Chewbacca to snap him out of his funk, and by then it was too late - the bay doors were beginning to close. At the same time, the flight controller's voice came back over the comm.

" _Millennium Falcon_ , please land and shut down your engines - your launch clearance has been rescinded."

It took a couple of seconds for Han to get over his shock, then another couple to stop himself swearing over the com. " _Restoration_ Flight Control, why has our launch clearance been cancelled?" he finally asked, attempting (a bit unsuccessfully) to stop his growing anger from bleeding into his tone, whilst Chewbacca guided the Falcon back to its landing spot.

"I'm unable to answer that question, _Millennium Falcon_. All I can say is that Princess Organa ran in here thirty seconds ago, ordering us to stop your departure, then left in the same hurry." Just as the controller finished speaking, Han saw a figure jumping up and down and waving below the cockpit as the Falcon settled on its feet - it was Leia.

This time, he didn't stop the obscenities in several languages as he hurled himself out of the cockpit seat. Not waiting for the landing ramp to fully lower, he stomped down it and towards Leia, who even at this point looked a little fearful.

"Alright, Your Worship," he snapped, stepping right up to the princess and jabbing a finger into her breastbone, "You obviously haven't left your comfortable palace that often during your life, because you don't understand how the real galaxy works." He stepped even closer until their noses were almost touching - Leia didn't flinch or even move back, her only reactions being to close her eyes and clench her fists at her sides.

"Here's what going to happen. You are going to contact Flight Control and give me clearance to leave, _on your order_. I'm going to fly to Tatooine and pay back Jabba the Hutt before he puts the galaxy's biggest bounty on my head, _and then_ Chewie and I are going to leave Tatooine - but not to come back here. Doesn't matter what you think, I am not one of your soldiers to order around, d'you hear? I want no part in your uprising - no matter what shiny things you give me."

He whirled and stepped away from Leia before his anger made him do something stupid, waiting for her acid response - which never came. Intrigued, he turned back around to find Leia stock still, eyes screwed shut and fists clenched, and taking deep breaths. At the top of the boarding ramp, Chewbacca asked a question, which Han answered with a shrug of his shoulders. Finally, Leia took in one deep breath, held it, and then let it out slowly through her nose. Han couldn't help but be a little amazed at how she bled her obvious anger away so quickly, and he was surprised to feel his own rage cool a bit as well.

She remained motionless for another second before she opened her eyes and pulled a piece of folded flimsi out of a pocket, which she offered wordlessly to Han. He stepped forward to take it, a bit cautiously, but her eyes betrayed no emotion.

"I'm sorry, Han," she said softly as she handed it over. "We downloaded the latest Holonet traffic just before jumping to hyperspace. I'm just glad I managed to catch you in time."

He opened up the flimsi to find an Imperial bounty notification poster for any information leading to the capture of the _Millennium Falcon_ (and here they also listed several of the false identities he'd used for the ship over the years) and her crew; vessel last seen in the Yavin System where it had participated in an attack on an Imperial vessel, but found before that in the Alderaan System and most likely to be found in the Tatooine System, where it'd been noted that the ship had blasted past an Imperial blockade. At the bottom, there was a sum of money listed that he had to read twice to believe.

He wasn't so sure if the resulting lurch in his stomach was from the poster or the _Restoration_ 's jump into hyperspace.

* * *

As they waited outside the _Ghost_ for Kanan Jarrus, who was late coming back from the sick bay, Leia was quite surprised to see Han Solo standing at the end of the Falcon's landing ramp on the other side of the bay, leaning against one of the struts. He didn't realise he'd been seen at first, only turning to walk back into his ship when Leia wordlessly handed her bag to Luke and started to cross the bay to the _Falcon_. Since the _Restoration_ had left Garrketh he'd been barely seen around the rest of the Mon Calamari ship, preferring to spend most of his time working on his beloved ship.

She found him under the floor of the main passenger lounge, elbows-deep in the hyperdrive, but he stopped what he was doing and flipped up his goggles as she sat down on the edge of the pit.

There were a few seconds where the two of them just looked at each other; he with a puzzled look, she with her head cocked and a lopsided smile that wouldn't've looked out of place on Han's face.

"Hey," she finally said.

"Hey yourself," he responded after a moment. She bit her lower lip, and he started to turn back to the hyperdrive.

"I…" He stopped and faced her again at her utterance, waiting for her to continue. "I just wanted to say…I think I know how you feel," she finally said.

His eyebrows went up at this, and he leaned against the opposite side of the pit. "Oh. Really?"

She nodded slowly. "Yep. You're grounded, and I'm heading off into the unknown… it really should be the other way around, shouldn't it?"

"I guess so," he answered. "Except that the Empire hasn't put the biggest bounty ever on your ship, have they?"

"We don't need the Empire to stop us," she replied. "The Expedition doctors have monopolised Kanan Jarrus over the past two weeks and I think he'll be just as pleased to leave them behind. They're very interested about his eyes."

"What's left of them," Han quipped. He hadn't seen the injury personally but he was pretty sure a lightsaber blade through the eyes and the bridge of the nose would not be pleasant. "I was wondering. I'd thought it was one of the Alliance big-wigs protesting against letting you go."

"Oh, that too," she confirmed with a nod. "Maybe if my father wasn't around…" she stopped for a moment, remembering the awful time she'd had - however short it was - when she'd thought that her parents were dead. "I'd be in it up to my neck, I think. But he's talked the Alliance leadership around - and made me realise as well that it's probably better for me if I was trained properly as well."

He nodded slowly at this, although he thought that Kanan seemed to be drawing out her Force talent rather well.

"Anyways, Princess," he said, pulling off his right glove and holding out that hand, "Sorry again for my outburst, and may the Force be with you."

She took his hand with a smile, before pulling him towards her for a hug. Slightly startled, it was a moment before he returned the hug. Eventually she pulled away, her hands on his shoulders and favouring him with a smile.

"I'm sorry too," she said. "I understand why you need to go. Don't be afraid of asking Father for help - he understands too." Han cocked his head in puzzlement, and Leia rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to speak-

"Leia?- Oh." Luke was leaning through the doorway. "Kanan's back, and now they're waiting for us."

Luke regarded Han with a cool expression as he helped Leia up before jumping up from the pit himself. Ever since he'd discovered Leia was his sister, he'd become even more protective of her and had not been happy to hear of Han's outburst towards her. His expression changed to a slightly chagrined one as Leia shot him a look, one of her arms around Han.

"Luke." Han held out his hand to him. Luke was momentarily startled, but then took the offered hand. "May the Force be with you, kid," Han said.

Luke looked up to him, a smile slowly spreading on his face. "And may it be with you as well, Han."

Together, they walked out of the _Falcon_ only to find Kanan standing at the bottom of the ramp, his face towards the bay. "Hey, I wasn't gone that long!" Luke protested.

"I didn't say I was chasing you down," Kanan replied as he turned to face them -

Han stopped so suddenly that Leia ran into the back of him. Kanan wasn't wearing his eye shields - and a pair of green eyes regarded them.

"Oh, awesome!" Luke exclaimed. "Someone got you implants!"

Kanan gave Luke a lopsided smile as he regarded Leia's cool look. "Not quite, Luke…"

Han had a good hunch what Leia's thoughts were, and he felt the same way. Kanan's new eyes looked as good as originals - which meant that they were seriously expensive. Why lavish luxuries on the Jedi, who until now had seemed unfazed by his lack of eyesight, when the Rebellion as a whole required basic necessities such as bacta?

"Nice of my father to help you out," Leia gave voice to Han's thoughts. Looking at the expression on her face, it seemed that adopted father or no, even Bail Organa was not immune to the wrath of an angry Leia.

"Yes, I'm very grateful to him and the medical staff of the Expedition, and no, they're not implants," Kanan retorted. "Now -"

" _They're clones?!_ " Leia all but yelled - well aware of their expense over cybernetics - and her shrill voice carried through the bay, attracting looks from a few beings nearby. Luke put his hand on her back in an attempt to calm her down, and she glanced from side to side as she noticed the attention she'd inadvertently drawn. "You said that being a Jedi was all about sacrifice," she continued, more quietly this time.

"And that is true," Kanan replied. "So is patience and listening to all sides of an argument." He lifted an eyebrow in a silent question, with Leia responding with a huff and arms folded across her chest, chin lifted in defiance.

"Right," Kanan continued in a sigh. "You know that Expedition medical technology is different from ours, right, particularly how they don't have or use bacta?" Han, Leia and Luke nodded in response. "Okay. What they do have is a currently-human-only technology called _Regen_ , short for -"

"-Regeneration?" Luke interrupted in astonishment.

"That's right," Kanan continued in a nod. "The Alliance High Council wanted a demonstration, and I was an available 'guinea pig' - whatever that is. They regrew my eyes right into my head."

"In two weeks," Han muttered. "First Prolong, now this."

"They say it works in 70% of cases, and they can fit implants for those that don't take Regen," Kanan said. "The Expedition is quite happy to treat any Alliance human who needs it, and allow exploration to see if it can be adapted to other species." Again, he lifted an eyebrow at Leia, who gave him a contrite smile in response. "Sorry," she said, stepping forward to lay a hand on his arm.

"That's alright," Kanan responded as they all turned and started towards the waiting Ghost and the small crowd gathered around her landing ramp.

"Any idea on how you're going to get to Tatooine?" Luke asked Han, as Leia pulled away from them and went towards her parents. Next to Bail and Breha, a young dark-skinned crewer snapped to attention before a Manticorean captain before mutual salutes were exchanged and the crewer turned, picked up a bag and began to head towards the waiting ship.

"I'm not sure, kid," Han replied. "I think I'm going to have to ask around and see if I can have a lend of a ship."

Luke nodded in understanding. "I was talking with Captain Syndulla, seeing if she could give you a ride, but surprisingly, she said no." He scratched his head, a puzzled expression on his face. "I think that Captain Dellacquer has convinced Hera about a need for increased operational security, and I think even Kanan has been backing both of them up in this." He shrugged. "I wish that there was more I could do, but…"

Han clapped a hand on Luke's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, kid," he said. "I'm sure you'll have enough to think about it when you get to… wherever you're going- Ah," he held up a finger to stop Luke saying the name of the system. "Increased operational security, remember?"

Luke nodded with a roll of his eyes. "Anyways," Han continued, "Chewie and I will think of something. We usually do."

Leia suddenly appeared by their side. "Ready?" she asked, a broad smile on her face. "Absolutely," Luke confirmed and with his arm around her shoulders, they both headed up the ramp of the waiting _Ghost_.


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm sorry, Captain Solo, but I just can't authorise either option," General Reekian said. Han faced him, hands on hips and a mulish expression on his face.

The general sighed and put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Han… I understand, I really do. The Alliance owes you a huge debt of gratitude, both for the rescue of the Princess and for your actions at the Battle of Yavin. But I just don't have a ship spare at the moment, and with the Empire placing a bounty that large on a ship as unique as yours…"

Han held his hands up in capitulation. "No need to say any more, sir," he said. "Everyone else has explained it, too many times - it's too big of a security risk."

Reekian nodded. "For what it's worth, the Alliance will protect you as fiercely as the Organas. We're not going to abandon you by any means."

"Understood, sir, and I'm very grateful for that. However, my usefulness to the Rebellion is compromised if I have a price on my own head," Han explained, again.

The general nodded in agreement, and for a moment, Han saw the difficulty of the conclusion the general had come to. Shaking Reekian's hand, he turned and walked out of the command centre, leaving the general deep in thought.

"Sir?" Reekian's head snapped up at the question - Lieutenant Antilles stood at his shoulder, sharply at attention. He relaxed into parade rest at a wave of Reekian's hand.

"Sir, permission to speak freely?" Wedge asked, and the general gave him a look before he waved his hand again. "Sir, is there truly nothing we can do to assist him?"

Reekian gave him another look. "Are you accusing me, Lieutenant, of simply being obstructionist because he refuses to commit fully to the Alliance cause?"

"No, sir," Wedge replied hastily. "I'm just wondering… with the Expedition Fleet now with us, surely that frees up some of our own ships for a quick trip to Tatooine?"

"It's not that simple, Lieutenant," Reekian said. "Right now, there's a lot of discussion going on about how we best integrate the Expedition ships into our own forces. We've been given a huge boost with the addition of their forces, with their rather unique drive technology and weapons systems; at the same time, we don't want the Empire to become fully aware of their existence and capabilities that quickly, so we'll have to be very careful how we deploy them." He sighed. 'There is also, unfortunately, a political dimension at work as well, what with the rapid inclusion of several other groups, but I'm not going to discuss that here."

"Understood, sir," Wedge said crisply. "You wanted to see me?" he asked, directing the general's thoughts to the initial reason he'd been asked to attend.

"I did, Lieutenant," the general confirmed. "If you'll look at the information on this pad," he began, handing said pad over, and the two were soon in deep discussion about the upcoming mission.

* * *

Deep in the bowels of the _Falcon_ , Han felt rather than heard the footfalls, and wondered who it could be. It clearly wasn't Chewbacca - for one, the footfalls were sharp, and that implied boots, which of course the Wookiee didn't wear.

He finished off the weld, flipped up his goggles to watch the glow fade away, and gave the seam of new metal a tap and a sweep with a brush. Satisfied that it was sound, he uncurled himself from his cramped spot and stuck his head up into the corridor to see who it was.

Viceroy Bail Organa might've been dressed in relatively casual garb but he still radiated an aura of leadership. "Uh…" Han began, thoughts going everywhere at once - on instinct, he grabbed a rag and started wiping his hands.

"Captain Solo, I apologise for the interruption," the Viceroy began.

"No worries, sir," Han countered, turning off the power and gas to the welder and hauling himself up out of the crawlspace. "Anything I can do for you?"

"Actually, Han, I was wondering if there was anything I could do for you," Bail countered. He looked at the chrono on his wrist. "It's almost time for lunch - would you do me the honour of dining with me?"

 _Him helping me? Honour?_ Han was quickly coming to the conclusion that he was in deep water and the rip was carrying him fast away from safety, but he kept those thoughts to himself, instead replying, "Of course, sir."

"Thank you," the Viceroy replied kindly, "And I'd much prefer it if you call me 'Bail'."

"No problem, si- I mean, Bail," Han said, indicating for the older man to lead the way.

They headed towards one of the base mess halls, Bail querying Han on his association with Chewbacca, and had him so engrossed that Han didn't realise Bail had led him past the mess hall until they stopped at a much smaller hatch. A hatch with Marines on either side, black-and-green contrasting with brown-and-grey - Manticorian and Havenite, pulse rifles at port-arms.

Han swallowed nervously, his appetite diminishing - not only because of where Bail had led him. He had seen the damage those rifles had done to Imperial stormtroopers on the Vengeance.

"Viceroy Organa and guest, to see the Admiral," Bail announced. "Sir," the Havenite Marine responded, and turned to the door com panel. There was a brief conversation, then the hatch opened, the Marines bringing their rifles to present-arms at the same time. Han had to resist the urge to salute the Marines back.

The room they entered was one of the larger rooms on the base and had slightly more luxury about it - which wasn't much in Reekian's tiny base, but it was enough to differentiate the room. A desk with a computer terminal, a couple of data pads and piles of data cards was situated in one corner, and the rest of the space was taken up with a large table. This table was very different, as it was dressed with a spotless tablecloth and gleaming cutlery and crockery. A sharply-dressed man, his coat cut short at the front but longer at the back, was serving food to a slim, dark-skinned, dark-haired woman with what might have been called a severe face, but was currently transformed by the beaming smile she was giving both visitors as she rose from the table.

"Viceroy! Thank you so much for dropping by; I've missed our regular lunches ever since we arrived here," she remarked, coming forward to take Bail's outstretched hand in both of hers.

"Indeed, Helen, it's been awfully busy since we showed up and put a nexu among the nerf." Helen blinked, before shaking her head and laughing.

"Oh, you mean a cat among the pigeons! Yes, it seems that the Alliance still isn't quite sure what to do with us - which is what Aviars is sorting out, and I don't envy him. We may have an upcoming small mission though."

"Which is precisely what I wanted to talk to you about - myself and my guest, that is." Bail indicated Han, who stepped forward. "Helen, may I introduce Han Solo, captain of the light freighter _Millennium Falcon_. Han, this is Vice-Admiral Helen Zachary, second-in-command of the Expedition."

Han took Helen's outstretched hand. "Admiral, my pleasure."

She smirked at him as she indicated the table. "Uh-huh, I do believe it's my pleasure to have you both here for lunch. Please, take a seat, both of you."

Han let Bail take a seat closest to the admiral, before he took the seat next to Bail, and then froze as the serving-man stepped in and laid a napkin on his lap, before helping him pull his chair in.

"I haven't had the opportunity to dine with the best," Han commented as the serving-man disappeared, "but I'd wager your man is as good as any serving droid."

"We don't have droids," Zachary replied. "We haven't yet created artificial sentience of any kind. Oh, sometimes our expert systems are called _artificial intelligence_ , but that's a very descriptive term - they're artificial and they've got some intelligence, but they're by no means sentient by a long shot." She gave a small sigh. "It's just one of the many small things that we have to get used to in this part of the galaxy."

She was interrupted again by the return of the serving-man who placed steaming plates of meat, vegetables and sauce in front of Han and Bail. "Would you like any refreshments?" he asked afterwards.

"Sorry, just before we get to that -" Zachary interrupted. "Captain Solo, this is my steward, Iason Kallikrates. Iason, Captain Han Solo of the _Millennium Falcon_."

"Pleased to meet you," Iason said with a smile, shaking Han's proffered hand. "Now, as I was saying…"

"I honestly have no idea," Han said. "I'd ask for some gardulla, but I'm sure neither of you - Bail excepted - would know what I'm talking about." That was true, and Bail was attempting to hide a smile behind his hand.

"Well, in that case, may I suggest a darker beer to go with your lamb?" Iason suggested, and Han shrugged in a 'why not' gesture. Bail asked for what seemed to be some sort of wine, and Iason left to get them.

"Gardulla, eh?" Bail asked rhetorically. "Definitely easy to determine where you can be found, Han." Han's answer to that was a shrug and a roll of his eyes as Bail chuckled. Iason returned with their drinks, and Han tried a bit of the meat, which he found to be nicely-spiced, and the ale-like drink complemented it well.

"Now, Captain Solo," Zachary began, "I've been hearing that you're having trouble trying to get out of here."

Han nodded, swallowing his mouthful before answering. "Yes, ma'am. I need to get back to Tatooine - that's about, oh, an eighth of a turn spinwise from here - to pay back a debt to my previous employer. And with the Empire looking for my ship… well, I've asked the brass all the way up to General Reekian, and they all say the same thing, and I see their point - it's too much of a security risk for me to leave in the Falcon, not to mention dangerous for myself."

"And I'm guessing that your former employer isn't fond of late repayments," Zachary said. Han shook his head in reply. "What's the most likely outcome if you don't repay them?"

"Han's creditor will issue a bounty for his capture," Bail interjected whilst Han had his mouth full. "Helen, I won't beat around the bush here. Han's erstwhile employer is a very powerful crime lord who could almost outbid the Empire for a bounty on his head. There is already a bounty out for the Millennium Falcon from the Empire and if Han gets his own personal bounty - well, he won't be able to show himself in a civilised system at all for fear of capture." Han looked at Bail, a wary expression on his face - he hadn't planned to explain that much about his past.

"I see," the admiral said, an unreadable expression on her face. A sudden thought came to Han's mind - the Manticorian and Havenite navies were, in their home territories, equivalent to the Imperial Navy in some basic functions - such as protection of merchant shipping, suppression of piracy and, of course, interception of smugglers. Now that Bail had classified Han's former employer, the admiral seemed to be reassessing Han.

"What are your intentions once you've paid off your debt?" Zachary asked, her tone more serious now.

"Well, my original intentions were for myself and Chewbacca to find other work - legitimate work," Han clarified, then sighed. "I guess, now that the Empire's looking for my ship, I'd have a hard time doing that as well."

"What about the option of coming back here?"

"To the Alliance? Well…" Han trailed off. He'd been mulling this over, first since he'd learnt about

the Empire's bounty, but more recently since Reekian's remarks, but hadn't yet persuaded himself to commit.

"Admiral, if you could excuse us for a minute?" Bail asked, then got up from the table after the admiral's nod, tapping Han on the shoulder in a discreet signal for him to follow. Trying his hardest to quash his signs of annoyance, Han got up as well and Bail led them to a nearby hatch, which turned out to be the corridor to the 'fresher.

"Han," Bail began softly, hands on the other man's shoulders, "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

Han responded with a 'what?' look and Bail let go of him to lean against the other wall. After a moment he asked, "What's so difficult about accepting help?"

"I'm not so keen on accepting help with strings attached, Viceroy," Han murmured in reply. Bail's eyes narrowed in response - but not in irritation, as it turned out, but in thought.

"Who in this galaxy - amongst all the people you've met in your life - who do you trust unconditionally?" Bail asked.

That was easy, Han thought. "Chewie - and myself. Luke - but that's because the kid's still innocent. Maybe one other." He shrugged, hands in pockets. "Everyone else just seems to want to further their own agenda."

"Figures," Bail responded, but he seemed to be talking to himself. He brought his head up to look Han directly in the eye. "What if I told you that the Alliance - and myself - are deeply indebted to you?"

Han blinked at Bail's intensity. "You are? But I've been paid the reward…" Bail waved his hand and Han trailed off.

"Money doesn't matter. What matters to me is that you helped rescue my daughter, and then you came back to help Luke against the Death Star."

"Well, sure," Han said, a little uncomfortable at the praise. "It just seems the right thing to do - especially against that monstrosity."

"And that's what sets you apart from the other people in this galaxy," Bail affirmed. "What did Reekian say to you? Did he make any other offer?"

"Not really - oh. He did say that the Alliance would protect me."

"And we will - and what I and Helen are offering is part of that protection." Bail sighed, and leant forward to put his hands on Han's shoulders again. "Han - I might seem like a stodgy old planetary ruler, but I've been in this game long enough to see how the real galaxy works. Trust me when I say that with the Empire looking for you, neither you or Chewbacca will last long by yourselves. Think about all those people who you couldn't really trust - how far do you think you could trust anyone else like them, when they can get some very easy money by turning you in?"

Han broke Bail's gaze for a moment, thinking, before nodding, and Bail let out his breath in relief.

"Thank you, Han - I assure you, you won't regret this." Han made a noise of mild acceptance and Bail internally winced at his last sentence - how many times had Han heard that in his lifetime?

Still, Han was ready to listen as he and Bail made their way back to the table, where Admiral

Zachary was perusing a datapad that was put down as the men re-seated themselves. "All good?" she asked.

"All good, Admiral," Bail said. "I'm all ears," was Han's response.

"Right, then," she announced, as she clasped her hands and leant on the now-empty space in front of her. "We've been asked to provide a ship for a mission to the Abrion sector, and Tatooine lies along the route. We can cut orders for the ship to call in at Tatooine to allow you to pay off your debts on her return route - she can carry the Falcon, but I ask that you rely on the ship's own complement of small craft to make planetfall." She gave Han a small smile. "I'm afraid that none of our ships smaller than a destroyer are capable of superluminal flight."

"I wouldn't think of making off with one of your small ships, Admiral," Han said. "I just hope they know that they might be flying into trouble."

"Well, if they weren't expecting trouble," Zachary replied with a broader smile, "then why did they sign up?" She handed over the datapad she'd been reading earlier. "They're departing at 0600 hours tomorrow - that's not much time, so with your permission, I'll order Logistics to begin transferring the Falcon immediately." Han nodded, and she stood up to head over to her desk - then stopped and turned to face Han again. "If I may ask, what were the circumstances of your first meeting with Chewbacca?"

"He was an Imperial slave," Han answered. "I busted him out." Her response was a slow considered nod, before she turned away again.

Han turned back to the cooling meal on his plate, but leant over to Bail before he took his next mouthful. "I thought that Reekian said that there were no ships available," he said quietly to his companion.

"No _Alliance_ ships under his command," Bail replied. "There's a little bit of political involvement in this, but for the time being, the ships of the Expedition are nominally considered part of the Alderaan Defence Forces, reporting to me." He paused to take a mouthful of wine. "So until they're formally integrated into the Alliance command structure, I can ask them for assistance." He gave Han a wink and a smile before turning back to his meal, as Han began to appreciate what 'friends in high places' really meant for a person's fortunes.

* * *

Han managed not to stumble too badly as he swung himself over the red line and into the gravity field of the RHNS _Saint-Nazaire_ ; Chewbacca, of course, had no problems landing with dignity. Fortunately, Captain Amanda Loup didn't laugh or snicker at his misfortune, instead offering her hand in greeting and assistance. "Captain Solo and Chewbacca, welcome aboard," she said brightly.

Han took the proffered hand and used it to regain his balance, before giving it a quick shake in thanks and welcome - pointedly ignoring the Wookiee's humour. "Thank you, Captain," he said in reply, quickly taking in her appearance - slim, nominally feminine curves, short black hair and piercing blue eyes, and a smattering of freckles across a still-too-young face - and deceptively strong. Han wondered if he'd ever get used to the appearance of Prolong-treated humans.

"I'm forty-five, by the way," she remarked to his unasked question as he picked up his duffel bag from where he'd dropped it, waving off Loup's offer of assistance. "And it's easier to leave the bags in zero-gee whilst you make your own transition."

"Thanks for the advice - I'll make sure I remember it for next time," Han replied. "And is it common to announce your age when meeting someone for the first time?"

"Not really," Loup replied, as she started to head along the ship's corridors, beckoning Han to follow. "But we understand that when seen by non-Prolonged humans, we often look way too young. When we first picked up the Alderaanian refugees, there were almost protests from them at our employment of what appeared to be child soldiers."

"I'm not surprised," Han remarked; Captain Loup barely looked a day over twenty to his eyes, and it was very difficult to reconcile the fifteen-year-old appearance of a junior officer she stopped along the way with the man's most likely age of double that.

"I'm not taking you to your cabin," Loup explained as Han protested his bag being taken.

"We're not?" he asked, surprised, Chewbacca echoing him, and Loup took the opportunity to wrestle Han's bag away from him and hand it to the lieutenant, who took off back the other way.

"Then were are we going?"

"Boat Bay Three," she remarked. Han's only response was a semi-sarcastic "Oh," as if that had been obvious from the start.

As they entered the bay, what did become obvious was that Loup had done her research - or had been tipped off by either Bail or Admiral Zachary - and had in fact taken Han to where the Falcon was stowed. He immediately strode over and began inspecting her, anxious to see if they'd bashed her any whilst moving her - the Falcon's saucer-shaped profile was a large contrast to the fairly slim small craft the Expedition fleet had, and the fit in the bay was tight.

"They say the real true love in the universe is between a man and his ride," Loup said teasingly as she slowly stepped over her, and she and Chewbacca both laughed at Han's look. "How long have you had her?"

"About three years," he said. "I won it in a Sabacc game from my unlucky friend, who'd thought that I'd pick a flashier ship rather than this one."

"It does look a bit battered."

"Yeah, she's had a long history before me, but she's got lots to offer under her skin, and she's saved my life plenty of times - mine and Chewie's."

"Of course," Loup said, turning to regard the Wookiee. "You rescued him from slavery?"

"Yep," Han responded, but cut short his response at Loup's handwave. "I look forward to hearing about it later," she said, "but for this moment, could you fill me in about the status of slavery in this part of the galaxy?''

Han shrugged. "It exists, and I don't particularly like it," he said. Chewbacca made his own feelings known with a snarl. "I've been contracted to take slave cargoes before - without any prior knowledge of course," he hastily added, sensing that this might be a sore topic for Loup, "but I usually managed to free them. The Empire's supposed to prevent slavery, but it often seems that they make all the right sounds on the surface whilst turning a blind eye."

"And your former crime-lord employer - Jabba the Hutt, right?" Loup asked, taking care to get the Basic pronunciation right. "Is he a slave-owner?"

"Find me a Hutt that isn't, and I'll show you a disgraced Hutt," Han responded.

"Uh-huh," Loup responded. "How much can you tell me about Jabba's palace?" she asked, and as Han began to answer, he was too engrossed in his ship to see the fiery look in Loup's eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

The massive main portcullis ground its way upwards, admitting the man pushing the grav-cart into the surprisingly cool interior of the monastery. Ignoring the B'omarr monks' brain-spiders, Han pushed the cart along until he was stopped by a pair of Gamorrean guards, as expected, and the Twi'lek major-domo, Bib Fortuna, appeared soon after, also as expected.

"Ah, Han Solo," Fortuna remarked with a nasty smile. "The prodigal smuggler returns at last - and with payment!" he exclaimed, noting the boxes stacked up on the grav-cart. "I do hope that it is enough to satisfy our master - for your sake."

"I'm pretty sure it will be," Han drawled. "Why don't you take me to him, then? Don't want to keep him waiting after all."

"Of course," Fortuna said with false sincerity, and motioned for two Gamorreans to accompany them - one of them deftly taking Han's DL-44 heavy blaster. "I'd like a ticket for that," Han quipped - the Gamorrean's response was to jab the point of his halberd into Han's back, and he took the hint and began moving, but not without protest.

As they arrived in the throne room, Han realised that it was a lot more packed than usual - lots more - and he hoped that all the extra beings wouldn't throw off the plan too much.

"Ah, my boy Han - you've returned!" Jabba exclaimed from his dais as Han glided the cart into the middle of the throne room - making sure to avoid the rancor trap door. "I was beginning to doubt you'd ever come back," the corpulent crime-lord continued.

"Yeah, well, never underestimate how crazy life can get," Han answered, "But yes, I'm back. And with payment. Plus," he continued, propping one foot on the grav-cart and indicating the boxes, "thirty-five percent more. Surely you'll agree, Jabba, that you've earned yourself a decent profit out of this venture."

"You've done well, Han," Jabba answered, and waved a stubby arm, his other hand holding tight the chain connected to the collar of his latest slave-girl. "Come; make yourself at home again, and we can discuss some other profitable ventures we can be partners on."

"I'm afraid not, Jabba," Han countered, and the throne room went quiet. "Although it pains me to say it, Chewbacca and I have found other employment that may not pay as well, but is certainly safer for both of us."

There was a long, silent pause before Jabba spoke. "Safer, you say?" He then burst into his trademark booming laugh. "Safer, whilst you're still flying that junkyard you call a ship! I know you too well, Han; you sank most of your money into fixing your ship so that it would get you from here to Kessel and back in one piece." Jabba's tone turned into something between conspiratorial and menacing. "Perhaps that is why you did not fly it here today."

Han shrugged at this, maintaining his outward composure whilst a knot began forming in his stomach. "You may be right, Jabba; however my new employers have given me some good perks, including borrowing a ship from their pool if necessary."

The Hutt snorted in amusement. "Ha! Han, if you had maintained that composure when you got boarded, you wouldn't have had to jettison my cargo! No; I know why you haven't flown it." He waved forward a droid, who had something rolled up in his hand. Han cocked his head; it looked familiar…

The droid unrolled it and Han felt his stomach drop: it was the Imperial bounty poster for the _Falcon_.

"Imagine my surprise, Han, when one of my boys found this whilst in Mos Eisley," Jabba remarked conversationally. "I can understand why you don't want to work for me any more, but hey, it's mutual - you're no good to me as a smuggler with this sort of Imperial attention."

"Well!" Han exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "I guess we're all happy then. You have your money back, plus thirty-five percent; I don't want to work for you, and you don't want me to work for you. We're all in agreement. Nice doing business with you, Jabba," he concluded and turned to leave.

He didn't get far - just about everyone else in the room whipped out a blaster of some sort and pointed it in his direction. Han stopped, arms above his head, and turned back to face the Hutt.

"Hey, I thought you said that I'm no good to you."

"As a smuggler, yes," countered Jabba, "but you can still earn me money. I'm quite sure that the Empire will pay in full for the captain of the Millennium Falcon, and I don't even have to pay these bounty hunters!" The room erupted into laughter at this, and Han slowly sat down on the grav-cart, seemingly dejected.

"Jabba, I'm sorry you feel this way, but I'm afraid that my new employers just won't take 'no' for an answer. You'll have to discuss it with them." There was a brilliant flash through the skylight, and explosions were felt rather than heard through the subterranean passages. "In fact, that ought to be them now," he concluded, reaching over and smacking the side of one of the boxes on the cart.

He was just in time - a fusillade of blaster bolts criss-crossed the throne room, clearly meant to turn Han to a cinder, if it wasn't for the small portable shield he'd activated. Meanwhile, he could see that Jabba had the same idea as his dais retreated back into its niche before a force-field snapped across the opening. The blaster bolts quickly tailed off as all the bounty hunters scrambled away, no doubt to get to their own ships before the impending slaughter, leaving human and Hutt to glare at each other from their protected positions as more explosions thudded in the distance, joined every so often by a snarling crackle.

"You'll never get away with this, Han," the Hutt roared with fury.

"Yeah, well all your Mynocks are coming home to roost right now," Han countered, as boots clattered on the steps leading to the throne room.

The sight of the tall, black, armoured and faceless bipeds striding into the room, the butts of wicked rifles against shoulders, cleared the rest of the stragglers out of the room in double-time. Two of them peeled off to pursue down a corridor, whilst four of them took up positions around the grav-cart.

"How'd you go?" Han asked.

"One hangar and four outposts trashed, slave quarters and slaves…ah," the blank-faced being tailed off as the other two strode back into the room, leading three other cowering and whimpering slaves through and out up the stairs. "Is that it?" the armoured suit asked, and Han merely pointed to the shielded dais in response. One suit of armour raised its rifle and let loose a dart into the force-field with a sharp _crack_. The shield flashed but didn't give.

On the dais, the Hutt looked at them with a sneer before lifting the slave-girl in his lap, placing her head in his mouth and biting it off. Han whipped his head away, and even the armoured people flinched as her terrified shrieks were replaced in a spray of blood by the sound of crunching bone.

"Right. We're done here," the suit spoke again in a black tone. Han deactivated the personal shield and two of the suits of armour grabbed the handle and began to pull. Han gave Jabba a final wave as he was dragged out and up the stairs; an enraged bellow in Huttese followed but it was too distorted by anger and distance for him to make out the words.

Han rolled off the cart after the first flight and made to run but was bodily lifted off the ground by a suit. "Hey! What am I, a rag-doll?" he protested

"It'll be quicker of us if you behave like one," the suit deadpanned back as the four of them took the stairs in sets of ten, Han slung over one shoulder.

"Oi! Wait up; put me down!" Han hollered as they reached the entrance hall, and the suit obliged. Han whipped his head around, looking for the Gamorreans; he started for the nearest lump on the floor before he stopped, wondering how he was going to look for his blaster amongst the mass of shredded flesh.

"Looking for this?" Han jumped and whirled at the sound of an amplified voice behind him; it took all of his strength not to cower at the sight of the blank-faced armoured figure looming above him before he looked down at the proffered hand to find his - somewhat blood-soaked - blaster being held out, handle first. "Thanks," he said breathlessly, grabbing the blaster before turning and running for the hole in the door. The suit still overtook him though.

Outside, Han sprinted as if his life depended on it for the waiting pinnace, the suit hanging back a bit to provide suppressing fire towards the weapons on the high balcony. High overhead, a cutter rode a roaring pillar of fire upwards like a hydrolox rocket of old. Han tumbled into the Havenite spacecraft, gulping deep breaths of the cool air, before pushing himself up and heading towards the cockpit. In the back, the battle-armoured Marines were strapping themselves and the wailing slaves in. "Who are you people?!" one of them shrieked.

In reply, one of the Marines popped her faceplate off, and the slave-girl's cries stopped instantly when confronted with the humanoid face. "3rd Platoon, Beta Company, 431st Battalion, Republic of Haven Marines, attached to the cruiser _Saint-Nazaire_ ," she announced. "Lieutenant Isabel Scott. Don't worry, this is a rescue." All the slave-girl could do was gape in astonishment.

Han finished strapping himself in as a bellow of "All in!" came from the hatch, followed by the satisfying thunk as the hatch closed and latched. "Cross-check!" Lieutenant Scott replied as the turbine howls and countergrav thrum grew in intensity, and the pinnace began to rise and turn as the Marines sounded off. It was more tradition than anything - the lieutenant had a readout of the health of her whole platoon, but sensors and beacons could fail, so the sound-off remained, although the pinnace could get going.

And not a moment too soon. "Traffic," one of the pilots called, as the double-suns of Tatooine glinted off the hulls of other spaceships also rising from the ground. "Targets, you mean," replied the gunnery officer, and the airframe trembled as the dorsal pulser turret slewed and fired at the closest. Heavy blaster bolts came back in return, and Han's stomach lurched as the pilot firewalled the throttles and whipped the pinnace around, missiles flying and nose laser blazing.

* * *

"Liftoff of Alpha-Papa-five confirmed, but she's taking fire," the comms officer called out on the bridge of the assault cruiser _Saint-Nazaire_. "Charlie-two ETA one minute." Nominally one of the latest _Constitution_ -class battlecruisers, the Theisman-led Navy had nevertheless seen the usefulness of a battlecruiser modified as per the infamous and unlamented StateSec ship PNS _Tepes_ , that had been destroyed above Cerebus by Honor Harrington. The _Saint-Nazaire_ was therefore ideal to conduct an operation like this.

"Very good, Mr Asthana," Captain Loup remarked from her command chair, one hand draped over her skinsuit helmet. "Guns, anything?"

"Not yet - wait. There are some larger craft rising from the planetary surface," announced Lieutenant Commander Kurtuluş at Tactical. "They look to be on headings to pincer us fore-and-aft," he concluded.

"And yet here we are, in geostationary orbit, nothing behind us and not a shot yet," Loup observed. "What is it with the beings in this part of the galaxy that makes them want to get into visual range before opening fire?"

"Helm, yaw ship sixty-five degrees to port," came the command from her exec, Justin Hershing. "I'd rather not take any chances, if I may say so, captain."

"Of course you can," Loup replied as _Saint-Nazaire_ rotated to point her bow at one group and present her port broadside to the other. "Boat Bay, are the pinnaces ready?"

"Just waiting for some clear air," came the reply from the Boat Bay Officer.

"Mr Kurtuluş - if you would kindly," Loup asked politely. "Of course, ma'am," came the reply, as the blonde-haired officer laid in the firing solutions. "Chase and port grasers standing by," he announced.

The seconds ticked by as they waited for the attacking ships to clear the planetary limb and low orbit, then after making sure there was no-one uninvolved behind to be struck by a stray beam, the Tactical officer touched a stud and the attacking ships vanished in a flash of light, to be replaced by rapidly expanding and fading fireballs.

"Boat Bay, launch pinnaces," Hershing ordered, then after confirmation that the pinnaces were away, he turned his attention to the next element of the assault. "Status of Mjölnir?"

"Active and ready," the reply came. "Good signal from Polaris."

* * *

The pinnace's wedge snapped into being, but not fast enough - the Skipray blast-boat roared over the top of them, right in the same plane as the dorsal wedge and while the blast-boat was torn to shreds by the locally immense gravitational fields, the feedback loop through the pinnace's impeller nodes was equally tremendous and they all went through an emergency shutdown.

There was a cut-off shriek from the back as the whole pinnace shuddered and bucked and the pilots swore in their own language. "That was bad?" Han asked from his own seat.

"Yes it was!" the pilot said through gritted teeth, as she wrenched the pinnace around again to avoid the blaster fire. "Damned thing was right where the wedge was going - we ripped it apart, but it put massive feedback through the nodes and they've shut down."

"Can we restart them?"

"No!"

"Can we make orbit?"

"Yes - just as soon as we -" She twitched her sidestick slightly, the nose of the pinnace dipped, then the screen darkened as the UV laser in the nose fired and the up-gunned freighter in the distance billowed fire and dropped like a rock. The pilot let out a whoop and an exclamation in her own language, before: "-right. Where were we? OK, we don't need the wedge to make orbit," she explained rapidly, "but it's an extra layer of - hang on…" She trailed off as the threat receiver warbled again, and juked the pinnace as blasters flashed through the air they had previously occupied.

"What she's trying to say is that the wedge helps protect us against incoming!" the gunner yelled, as he brought the pulser turret around and unleashed a volley of explosive-tipped darts into their pursuer, who wheeled away to try another angle.

"So we've lost our shields?" Han yelled.

"WHAT?" someone yelled from the back. "We're going to die!"

"No we're not!" a Marine bellowed in reply.

"I'd like to think so too," the pilot interjected, "but those craft ahead have other ideas!" As she'd announced, Han could see the reflections of sunlight off fast-approaching ships in the forward windshield but before his mind could begin to classify them or think of possible evasive manoeuvres, the distant ships abruptly came under fire of their own as three more pinnaces swept overhead, their outlines distorted by their impeller wedges. One of them corrected their course a little to collect a nearby smaller attacker with their wedge; the fighter effectively got cut in two, the forward half disintegrating against the inner wedge band whilst the after half exploded.

The pilot let out another cheer, before bringing the pinnace around to bear on the other group of attackers. The nose laser made short work of them; their after aspect clear, the pilot brought the nose of the pinnace skyward and engaged the rear thrusters, pressing them all back in their seats as the pinnace leapt for orbit and the waiting cruiser.

* * *

"No more friendlies in the blast zone," Kurtuluş reported. "Mjölnir ready in all respects."

There was a beat -

"Launch," Captain Loup commanded.

Kurtuluş tapped another button on his panel and an object was thrown out of the waiting counter-missile tube, but it wasn't a counter-missile - it was a bit too long for that. It was a very special form of kinetic penetrator.

The missile brought its wedge online and streaked towards the planet, but not at speeds that would turn it into a blazing spear of plasma when it entered the atmosphere - this missile needed to survive entry. Ejecting its ablative shield, the seeker sought out and locked onto the faint gravity pulses being emitted from the cart Han had delivered to the palace earlier. Nearing the monastery, it reached the correct altitude and distance to give it the proper impact angle and its wedge increased to full power.

The impeller at the back of the missile was connected to a dense, reinforced centre rod, with the guidance packages in rings around the rod and the superconducting capacitors mounted behind the impeller. When the missile struck the cliff face, the impeller drove the rod right through the rock and immolated Jabba's throne room, suites and everything in them as the rotunda's deflector shields protected all the above-ground structures from the back-blast.


	9. Chapter 9

"All landing craft and passengers secure," Commander Hershing reported.

"Excellent," Loup replied. "Status of ground target?"

"Waiting for some of the dust to clear," Kurtuluş said. "Probably another thirty seconds before good visual."

Loup nodded, then turned to the navigator. "Prepare a course for home, Ms Besilas," she asked.

The half-minute soon ticked by, and Kurtuluş put the drone imagery up on the holoscreen for all to see.

"Well, the upper half of the monastery is still standing," Hershing said. "So we got that part right."

"Entry hole conforms to specifications," Kurtuluş reported. "I'm putting a pencil maser down the hole… no metal concentration."

"So, it looks like it made it through," Loup mused.

"I guess we're not going to find out unless we send somebody down again," Hershing mused.

For another half-minute, they watched the picture of the monastery, smoke billowing out from the hangar and the hole in the portcullis as they discussed the performance of the weapon and the assault in general.

Someone breathlessly ran through the bridge hatch and Loup turned to see who that undisciplined individual was - it turned out to be Han Solo. "How'd it go?" he asked once he got his breath back as his Wookiee companion entered at a more sedate pace.

Loup indicated the imagery from the monastery. "Looks like we did the job," she replied. "Alright, show's over - let's get go-"

" _Contact!_ " came the call from Tactical. "Single large vessel, two light seconds out, bearing zero-four-one mark zero-zero-one!" The monastery imagery vanished to be replaced by the situational holo, the white carat of 'unknown vessel' quickly replaced by a dagger shape in red. "CIC confirms - one _Imperial_ -class Star Destroyer."

"Damn," Loup muttered. "Battle stations. Roll ship - I want one of our wedge bands in between us and them at all times. Ms Besilas, project our outward course please." The holo updated to show the line the Saint-Nazaire would've taken to leave, effectively seventy degrees off the Star Destroyer's incoming bearing. She looked at the holo, deep in thought, whilst the klaxon howled before turning back to her command chair.

"Alright, take us out on our original course," she ordered. "We'll just have to attempt to recover our drones during departure." The klaxon shut off and she checked the readiness board; the ship was all buttoned up and ready to go - it was made easier when the ship was already at Readiness Two.

"Skipper," Hershing said, "one of our drones is halfway around the other side of the planet. It's likely that it'll be intercepted by that Star Destroyer as we attempt to recover it."

That information made Loup pause. The drones were expensive and she was loath to lose one.

"Captain," Han called from the back of the bridge, "what's going on?"

She was puzzled by his query at first, until she realised he'd asked the question in Basic - and everyone had lapsed back into Standard English. "Oh! - My apologies," she replied in Basic, then gave Han and Chewbacca a quick rundown of the situation in their language.

Chewbacca voiced something to Han. "You're right," the human replied.

"Sorry?" Loup asked.

"What Chewie just said is that it's rare for a world like Tatooine to have a visit from an Imperial-class Star Destroyer - in fact, the last time I remember seeing one here was when they were chasing the Princess and her droids," Han remarked.

"So?" Loup didn't quite see the point and - to her annoyance - she'd realised that she could've used grasers on the Star Destroyer as the _Saint-Nazaire_ 's bow came around, if not for being distracted by her passengers. The cruiser was now accelerating out at 600g, dorsal wedge band pointed at the Star Destroyer moving to intercept, leaving the boat bays free to recover the drones they could.

Chewbacca's next vocalisation was a bit harsher to untrained human ears. "The point Chewie is trying to make is that the Star Destroyer has to be here on a special mission," Han translated, "and he asks if we can have the Destroyer 'capture' the drone so we can see why they're here."

"I'm even less inclined to give the Imperials examples of our technology," Loup replied sternly.

"Yeah, but no-one else can do so much damage with just their engines. Listen, Chewie's idea is this…"

* * *

 _Now_ , Vader thought, but the Reprisal's bow kept swinging around in a vain attempt to stop the fleeing ship by getting in her way, and as their quarry cut across their bow, the after turbolasers were blocked from firing by the foremost turrets. The commander of the other ship had even angled her to block most of the lateral turrets' fire and as she whipped passed, the haziness of their massive shields vanished to reveal a spindly ship barely half as long as the Star Destroyer.

The viewports darkened automatically in response to the flashing lasers coming from the smaller ship, and explosions made the Star Destroyer tremble. "Sir - we've lost Main Turrets One and Five, plus our fire control!" came the shout from the pit, as the viewports cleared to show the hazy, impenetrable shields hiding the enemy ship again.

Disgusted, Darth Vader turned to stalk back up the central gantry to the cluster of senior officers at the back of the bridge. "Leave them," he rumbled.

"But sir-" came the captain's inevitable protest.

"I said _leave them_ , Captain Ozzel, before you do more damage to your ship," Vader snapped, coming to a halt in front of the portly captain. "I believe congratulations are in order, Captain - you have successfully allowed an enemy ship to 'scrub your nose', as the term goes, and it was all precipitated by your manoeuvres. They merely had to continue on their outbound course - you presented the enemy with the opportunity, with the result that _your_ ship has lost one-quarter of its main battery, plus the means to centrally direct their fire, and they have escaped."

Most captains by now would be cowering in a pool of their own excrement, but Captain Ozzel of the Reprisal seemed to be stupider than most, as he began to protest. "Lord Vader, I am quite happy to convey you on whatever damn fool errand you might be on, but do not _dare_ dispute how - _ughk_ -"

Ozzel began to finger his collar, attempting to pull off the invisible hand around his throat, as Vader directed his gaze to one of the junior officers standing behind the choking man. "Lieutenant, is my shuttle ready?"

"Yes, Lord Vader," came the calm reply - the officer knew exactly how to avoid Ozzel's predicament, and that was ensuring that he did what the Dark Lord asked for competently.

The captain's lips were beginning to turn blue as his eyes bulged. "I will be departing for the planet's surface now, Captain," Vader growled. "Please use the time I am off this ship to reflect upon your actions and their outcome, as I expect a personal report upon my return on what you should have done to prevent that debacle." He then swept away, leaving the captain to slump to the deck, gasping for air.

Commander Demmings went to Ozzel's aid as soon as the bridge doors closed behind Vader's retreating form, but his consolation was harsh. "What the hell did you think you'd achieve by that?" he muttered.

"My ship - _my_ responsibility - _my_ orders - not his!" Ozzel rasped as Demmings helped him sit up at first, then slowly get to his feet. "They fled at our arrival, so most likely Rebels; we had to attempt capture to find out what they were doing here!" He dissolved into a horrible-sounding coughing fit, and Demmings called over a crewer. "Get the captain down to the medbay to have his throat looked at," he ordered.

"Sir!" Another officer approached as the crewer slung an arm around the captain. "We've intercepted a small unmanned vehicle as it was headed for the fleeing ship. It appears to have a reactionless drive."

"Just like our quarry, eh?" Demmings mused.

"Have it brought aboard," Ozzel rasped. "That is a vital piece of intelligence about our attackers and this is not an opportunity to waste!"

"But sir -" Demmings protested.

"Commander," Ozzel warned, and Demmings demurred - Ozzel might be stupid and currently incapacitated, but he was still the rightful commander of the Reprisal, and Demmings knew better than to question the man's authority at this moment.

"See to it," Demmings hissed to the officer as Ozzel was taken away, "but make damn sure that thing is _safe_ before you bring it aboard!"

"We'll scan it thoroughly and double-check, sir," the officer responded before coming to attention and heading off to do as ordered, leaving Commander Demmings to look out on the approaching world of Tatooine - and wonder if he could goad Ozzel into getting himself executed by the Dark Lord whilst he was available.

* * *

"Shuttle Imperial-Two, please hold," the flight controller asked over the com. The pilot acknowledged and began to count backwards - three, two, one…

"Why have we not been given launch clearance?" the Dark Lord rumbled from behind them, on cue. "What hold-up has that fool Ozzel caused this time?"

"I'll find out," the pilot asked, which was the only correct response when flying Vader, and did so.

"We've captured a small unmanned craft that appears to have the same drive as the fleeing ship," the flight controller responded. "They've got it in a tractor beam a few kilometres away whilst they scan it to ensure that it's safe." Mollified, Vader returned to the rear cabin, pleased to find out that the captain appeared to have a milligram of common sense - or maybe the executive officer, Demmings, had ordered the hold-and-scan? That seemed more likely to the Dark Lord.

Patience, however, was never one of Darth Vader's character traits, and he soon stood back up. "Open the hatch," he commanded the pilots, who didn't tell him that the preflights would have to be re-done if they unbuttoned the shuttle again - they just complied.

He strode down the ramp and walked right up the edge of the atmospheric containment field, just in time to see the odd probe be brought in to the opposite bay. As reported, there was no evidence of any reaction nozzles; only a ring of stud-like objects on one end broke the smooth, black surface.

* * *

"Who's that?" Hershing asked.

"Who's who?" Han replied.

"Tall guy in black; he's in front of that pinnace in the other bay." He went to his console and put the view up in an inset; Han and Chewbacca instantly realised who he was talking about.

"So that's how they got information on the _Falcon_ ," Han murmured, whilst Chewbacca yowled in agreement. To the rest of the bridge officers, he announced, "That man there is Darth Vader, the Emperor's right-hand man. We'd thought that he'd perished with the Death Star. Seeing him here explains a few things."

"Such as?" Loup asked.

"Well, why he's here, for one," Han said. "He knows that the _Falcon_ was brought aboard the Death Star, and he probably traced her back to Tatooine. So I reckon he's here to investigate personally." As they watched, the dark figure stalked into the waiting pinnace, which then flew out of the Star Destroyer as the drone was pulled into another bay.

"Damn shame it's a thirty-minute control loop," Kurtuluş muttered, "We could've powered the drive and ensured he was dead." The _Saint-Nazaire_ had done a short hyperspace hop to the edge of the system, but were so far out that even at 64 _c_ , it took fifteen minutes for the drone to send data back.

"I'd always wondered how the Empire figured out I'd helped Luke…" Han mused. Chewie interjected, and Han nodded. "Yep. It's got to be."

"A translation, please?" Hershing asked politely.

"You know about the details of the battle of Yavin?" Han asked, and got nods all around. "Good - saves me having to describe it again. Well, the bounty poster says that the Falcon attacked Imperial spacecraft in the Yavin system. So, we destroyed one TIE fighter in that trench, and then the other panicked and ran into the central one and knocked that one out of the trench and out of control, before smashing against the trench wall. So of those three fighters, there's one unaccounted for, and it had an odd design - the tips of its wings curled inwards, instead of being wholly vertical. Chewie here reckons that Vader was in that centre fighter."

Loup's eyebrows went up in understanding. "I see. And this man, second only to the Emperor, is known for taking a personal interest in things, eh? At least the Alliance now knows he's alive."

"Small comfort that is," Han murmured under his breath.

They watched as techs swarmed around the probe, before stepping back for two people of senior rank. "Is that the captain?" Loup asked. "Get his picture; if we're going to send him down with his ship, we want to compile a trophy list so we know who we've got and who we haven't."

"Amazing thing," the Imperial captain was saying, light-hours away and fifteen minutes ago. "Any indication yet on how its drive works?"

"Mr Kurtuluş? Please arrange a demonstration for the captain," Loup asked.

* * *

The shuttle swooped low over the Northern Dune Sea and the scattered remnants of spaceships as it approached the B'Omarr monastery, which - until very recently, it seems - was also the residence of Jabba the Hutt. Even from a distance, Vader could make out the hole drilled through the sandrock cliff below the monastery rotunda; the vitreous ooze from it gave it a disquieting organic appearance.

The main hangar which they landed beside was also blackened and scorched, and more vitrified marks discoloured the walls here as well. Vader strode up to one, examining it closely as the stormtrooper captain continued his report.

"By the time we were able to get assets in the air, it was all over - all we were able to catch was the missile impact, and then only at a distance."

"And what did you observe?"

If the trooper could scratch his head, he would've. "No radiation reflection of any sort - not even pure EM, other than infrared, and even that wasn't coherent enough to be backscatter from a laser," he reported. "Our initial conclusion was that it was a kinetic weapon. We're going to do a diagnostic on our transport's sensors as it was saying that there were no drive emissions at all."

"Did you obtain any imagery of ships in orbit at the time of the attack?" Vader asked, as he ignited his lightsaber to prod at the glassy welt.

"Yes, sir. We found at least one of unknown configuration."

Vader's head snapped up and he shut off the lightsaber. "Show me."

* * *

Up on the Reprisal, Ozzel and Demmings were having a quiet if heated discussion in one corner of the hangar whilst one intelligence tech finished imaging all aspects of the probe in the cradle. Nearby, another tech prepared his tools to start taking apart the probe.

"Wait," Ozzel interrupted Demmings again, holding up his hand and cocking his head. "Do you hear that?"

Demmings' protest died on his lips as he, too, strained his ears. There was a low hum permeating the air, like…

" _Sir!_ " came the shout from across the bay, and both officers whirled to find the probe rising from the floor, carrying the cradle with it, and rotating -

* * *

The intake of breath from the trooper was loud enough to be heard without the com, but Vader had the Force, and he whirled to look at the brand-new third sun of Tatooine in the sky as the deaths of thirty-thousand crewers lashed through him. He continued to look as the explosion began to fade, and to all the troopers present, they got the sense of… sadness, somehow, expressed through his posture. Which rapidly turned to anger, and the throat of every man present clenched in time with Vader's fists.

Slowly - very slowly - the sense of anger from the Dark Lord began to narrow and sharpen until it was laser-like, and when he turned to look at them again, all anyone would recall was a sense of determination radiating out of him.

"It appears my visit to Tatooine has been extended for a while," Vader announced. "Let us see what we can determine of our enemy during that time." It was the closest thing to a quip anyone could remember hearing from him.

* * *

Note: 'Scrubbing someone's nose' = crossing their 'T'.


	10. Chapter 10

I think I find writing these sorts of chapters a bit tricky. A lot of time was spent consulting source material (i.e. _ESB_ ) and editing and re-reading. Hope you all enjoy it.

* * *

"See, what did I tell you? Dagobah!" Kanan crowed.

With all the people crammed into the cockpit, Ensign Jomo Tshepo of the Royal Manticorian Navy had to crane his neck to catch a sight of cloud-covered Dagobah III and wondered if the increased albedo would offset the decreased distance to the hot G0 primary. Brought up on cool, dry Pontifex in the Talbott sector, even Saganami Island on Manticore had been a shock to the system, Old-Earth African descent be damned.

Desert-bred Luke Skywalker was also having his doubts. "Are you _sure_ this is where we can find Yoda?" he asked. "There's no sign of anything in orbit, not even a city on the surface."

"And where else do you expect a Jedi Master to be hiding from the Empire? Corellia?" Kanan replied. "You have to open yourself up and trust the Force more, Luke, if you ever want to become a Jedi Knight." Over to the side with Sabine, Ezra nodded in agreement.

"Alright, hot-shot," Hera butted in, "you've found the planet, but a planet is a big place in its own right. So where do you want to put down?"

As if scripted, Kanan turned to the trio of Jedi initiates. "Where do you think?"

After a moment's closed-eye concentration, Leia was the first to raise a hand and point. "There," she murmured, before opening here eyes and following her finger. "Northern hemisphere, mid-latitudes but a bit equatorial." Hera got up out of her seat, allowing Leia to sit down and have access to the navigational controls. "We'll need to begin re-entry within a quarter of an orbit."

"Show me where," Kanan asked conversationally, a faint smile on his face, as Jomo once more silently cursed his predilection to saying 'yes' to things.

Their landing site turned out to be a temperate but misty swamp, and Jomo was extremely grateful for the standard-issue, climate-controlled RMN tent that had been brought along. They and the rest of the crew of the _Ghost_ had shared the evening meal together before disembarking and watching the _Ghost_ lift off again.

"Who's taking first watch?" Jomo asked once they were all inside the tent.

"Watch?" Kazan asked, puzzled, whilst the twins exchanged blank looks and shrugs.

"Yeah, watches," Jomo repeated, feeling braver than he felt. "We're on an unknown planet, there could be all sorts of large predators out there - someone's got to stand watch."

Kanan opened his mouth to reply, before shutting it again as he rolled the question around his head. "He's got a point about the predators," Ezra piped up after some thought. "But perhaps Artoo could stand guard -" He was cut off by a series of indignant beeps and whistles from the alarmed droid as it rocked back and forth.

"Okay, Artoo," Luke soothed, stilling the droid with a hand on its dome. "No-one's going to ask you to stand outside all by yourself."

"I'll stand the first watch," Jomo volunteered.

Kanan shook his head, hands on hips. "There's a lot that the Navy's drummed into your head that you'll have to unlearn, Jomo, but if you want to stand watch tonight, that's alright," he finally conceded.

"I'll take second watch," Luke volunteered.

"And I'll take the third," Kanan said, as he watched Jomo gather his pulse rifle with disapproving eyes. "I don't think you'll need that."

"It's the Marines that taught me as well," Jomo remarked, "and Gunny would crucify me if I stood watch without my weapon," he finished before stepping outside.

He managed to maintain a parade-like attention for about an hour before unwinding enough to lean against a nearby tree, thankful for Artoo's presence as night began to fall. His attempts to light a fire in the damp environment proved unsuccessful without the droid's assistance, and he soon found himself conversing with the bubbly astromech he'd come to know on the HMS _Bessemer_.

"I'm beginning to wonder if the Admiral's made a mistake," Jomo remarked quietly to the droid. On staunchly atheist Pontifex, that statement was akin to blasphemy. Ever since then-Captain Terekhov had taken out the former Havenite State Security warships skulking around the Nuncio system, hero-worship of the captain had approached idolatry and when Manticore had come calling for recruits from the newly-minted Talbott Sector of the Star Empire, Jomo's hand had gone up mighty fast. Being assigned to the Expedition after his midshipman cruise and graduation from the Navy Academy had been the icing on the cake.

"I mean, I understand the decision to throw our lot in with the Rebellion agains the Empire," Jomo continued, "but for me to help the revival of an order of warrior-monks?" He snorted in sarcastic amusement. "Sure, the treecats vouched for me - but I've always been good with them - and Lieutenant Awaba was pretty upset to see me go, so I guess I'm going alright in Comms. But how's a Comms officer supposed to help out here?"

A particularly unfriendly sound in the distance re-focused his attention on the surroundings, the light from the fire reflecting off distant animal eyes. "I don't know, Artoo," Jomo replied to the droid's question. "I mean, at least on Sphinx, I knew that there were peak-bear and hexapumas that we could encounter. But I don't know anything about what could be on Dagobah." He shivered and shifted his position slightly as the faint light from the flames reflected off the drifting mist, as Artoo brought his attention back to the original conversation.

"Yes, Kanan tried to explain, but I haven't felt the 'deeper connection' to the universe that he talks about, even after meditation - and I've had practice at meditation before." The droid beeped another question. "Well, sure - maybe," Jomo replied. "I guess you could say being 'good at languages' is because I can connect to a culture better, but it isn't evidence that I have the 'Force'," he finished with conviction.

"So sure you are?" the high-pitched but gravelly voice sounded from off to his left.

Jomo leapt up from his seat, training and instinct kicking in to put the rifle against his shoulder and have it pointing at the diminutive biped that had appeared on top of a massive tree root, although he made sure to have his finger out of the trigger guard. The being's arms flew up to protect its head as Jomo did a quick situational check - as the Marines had taught him on the third-year camping trip - before he ran through a calming exercise and focused on the being he had at gun-point.

It was very short - Jomo estimated about sixty to seventy centimetres in height - and green with pointed ears sticking out from its wrinkled head. It was clothed in dull-coloured robes that had obviously been patched time and time again and it had no footwear on its clawed feet. One hand held a cane almost as gnarled as it.

"Away put your weapon," the being asked, "I mean you no harm." Jomo paused for an instant as it considered the being's request, and did another quick situational assessment.

"Anything out there, Artoo?" he asked, and the droid beeped in the negative. Jomo safed the pulser and lowered it, taking a deep breath to clear his tension, but kept the rifle in his hands just in case.

"You've got some good sneaking skills, short stuff."

"Sneaking? Yes, yes, plenty of practice have I had at sneaking," the being confirmed, before chortling in amusement. "I was wondering - why are you here?"

Jomo raised an eyebrow. "Who wants to know?"

"I do!" the green being answered. "In my home have you pitched your camp!" The being climbed down off the root and shuffled towards them.

Jomo tensed in response, but kept the pulser pointed away from the being as it looked him up and down, before turning and doing the same to Artoo, who examined the short being just as thoroughly. Apparently satisfied, the creature turned and pointed its walking stick at the human.

"Answered my question, you have not," it accused.

Jomo paused briefly, considering. There was absolutely no sign of the Empire at all and the system hadn't been marked at all on the standard starcharts, just an unnamed star floating at the edge of the galaxy. "We're seeking a Jedi Master named Yoda, so we can be trained," he finally responded.

"Do you now?" the creature replied, pressing its lips together, and for an instant, Jomo got the feeling that it was looking into the very core of his being.

"Hey, Jomo - what?" Jomo's head snapped up as Luke exited the tent and came to a halt at the scene in front of him. "Who's this?"

"I…" Jomo blinked as realisation hit - he'd let the creature wander into the camp and he didn't have a clue who it was! Training rushed to the fore again and the pulser started to come up -

"Wait!" Luke shouted, raising his hands and stepping in between the two, as a firm pressure kept the pulser muzzle pointed at the forest floor. Briefly testing his strength against the unseen force, Jomo realised that he couldn't overcome it and relaxed, warily looking at the short green thing that was standing, unconcerned, behind Luke.

"It's all right, Ensign," Luke said softly, looking Jomo in the eye until the dark-skinned man nodded in assent. He then lowered his hands and squatted down to the being. "I'm sorry about that - my friend here has been trained to be suspicious."

The dwarf nodded in understanding - or was that agreement? "Much to learn, he does," he remarked. "Almost as much as you, Skywalker."

Luke and Jomo both opened their mouths in shock. "I…" Luke began, before training off and forcing his mouth closed again. "How - how do you know me?"

"The Force is my ally," the creature replied.

Understanding dawned on Luke's face. "You're Master Yoda," he breathed, and Yoda nodded slowly in confirmation.

Luke sat back as he absorbed the news, whilst Jomo stood still in the shocked realisation that he had pointed a weapon with intent to shoot at the very person they were on this planet to find. _They're all going to line up to crucify me_ , he thought miserably.

"Master Yoda," Luke said again, scrambling to his feet and bowing deeply at the diminutive Jedi. "I, Luke, my sister Leia, Ezra Bridger and Jomo Tshepo here have come to be trained as Jedi Knights, continuing our instruction begun under Master Kanan Jarrus and, in my case, under Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said as formally as he could manage. Jomo snapped to attention as well, attempting to amend for his faux pas as quickly and as thoroughly as he could.

Yoda, for his part, didn't respond right away - except for a slight hint of amusement at Jomo's posture - but gave Luke the same thorough examination he'd given Jomo. "And why do you wish to become Jedi?" he finally asked.

The question threw Luke briefly. "To - to fight the Empire and bring justice to the galaxy," he responded.

"Oh? Fight? Revenge? This is the Jedi way you have been taught?" Yoda pointedly asked.

"No - not at all!" Luke replied hastily. "Kanan hasn't taught us any of those things."

"Then why say that you do, hm?" Yoda said. "Justice, yes; a Jedi seeks to be just, fair and kind in all his dealings, but not to seek revenge - even against those who we feel have wronged us the most." He turned to Jomo. "And you who have travelled furthest? Why do you seek to be Jedi?"

"Because Admiral Terekhov believes I can," Jomo answered.

"Ah! Believe you can be Jedi, you do not; others do. And what think you of their beliefs?"

"I…" Jomo closed his mouth, his earlier doubts welling to the surface of his mind.

"Yes," Yoda murmured, eyes half-lidded. "The doubt you have, the fear; in you, I can feel them. Strong is the hold they have on you." His eyes opened fully to regard the young Ensign fully. "Wise your Admiral is; wise to take the advice of others who know better than he." Jomo's eyes widened, several emotions swirling through him. "Potential you have, yes, but effort you must put in to become a Jedi."

"I actually have the potential?" Jomo replied, astonished.

"Of course you do," Yoda replied, amused. "Remember my first question to you."

Jomo cocked his head, eyes unfocused as he recalled the last few minutes. "Yes," the Jedi Master confirmed as he watched the realisation dawn on Jomo's face. "Call on the Force, you do, to assist with your understanding. Even in the smallest of things, is the Force."

The tent flap was pushed aside again to reveal a sleepy and somewhat irritated Kanan, but those fell away as he looked at the four of them. "Master Yoda!" he cried, delighted, and he quickly crossed over to kneel in front of the small green creature. "Its -… I -…." He struggled to speak through his emotion. Behind him, Leia and Ezra appeared in the tent doorway as well.

Yoda laid a hand on Kanan's knee, and the man's expression changed to one of peace. "The Force is with you, Master Caleb Dume," Yoda intoned softly. "The nightmare of the past - over it is. New beginnings, we can dream of." Kanan let out a slow breath, before opening his eyes and nodding in agreement.

"A difficult path we have ahead of us, though," Yoda continued, taking in everyone. "To your limits, yes, you will all be pushed - including you, Caleb. But potential, and strong foundations you have - Master Caleb has taught you well."

Yoda let go of Kanan, who stood back up. "Faith you must have - in yourselves, and in the Force. Let the Force flow through you, in peace and calm, and never will it let you down." His face became stern. "But beware of the Dark Side. Anger, aggression; fear and hate - of the Dark Side these are. Learn to recognise them, I will teach you, but patience you will all need."

He stopped, hands on his cane, as he took in the sombre nodding faces of the humans, before the expression on his face relaxed. "But such difficult subjects these are for such sleepy people! Go, sleep, rest; even you, Jomo. No need to stay outside and awake there is; safe you all are here. Sleep well, for early shall your training begin tomorrow." He made a shooing gesture with his hands, and the humans took the hint and headed back into the tent, saying their goodnights as they did so.

Kanan lingered a little longer in Yoda's Force presence. "It's good to see you again, Master Yoda," he said softly before turning and heading into the tent.

Jomo waited until it was just him and Artoo left before kneeling in front of the Jedi Master, his pulser leaning against a tree behind him. "I just want to apologise for my actions earlier," he began, but Yoda cut him off with a slow shake of his head.

"Nothing to apologise for, you have," Yoda said. "Soldiers of all ranks have I commanded and fought with; strong habits, they have, just as you do. Discipline, they have taught, and you have learned well. A Jedi also needs discipline, and not to let their emotions cloud their judgement; follow these aspects of your training, and easier you will find your Jedi training."

"Thank you, Master," Jomo replied with a bow of his head, before retrieving his pulser and heading into the tent, his mind clear. Yoda watched him seal the tent door, before turning and shuffling over to the astromech droid.

"Still with the Skywalkers, you are?" he asked, Artoo twittering an affirmative, before asking a question. "Not yet," Yoda responded. "Cautious we must be, else all we will have fought for will be for naught. Now, some new allies we have, hm? Tell me about them, you must!" Artoo twittered happily, before beginning to show the ancient Jedi all he had observed about the Expedition.


	11. Chapter 11

This chapter was a bugger to write. Who knew that Darth Vader could be such a complex character?

* * *

Locking his repulsorlift unit into hover mode, the stormtrooper sapper deliberately didn't look at the mass of metal above him but instead started to clear away the debris in front of him. The other troopers in his squad were stationed well back to avoid the falling pieces, with the exception of the black-clad and cloaked member of their group.

After removing the outside layer of junk, an entry hole became visible, showing that a piece of the missile had indeed been flung up to the Jawa's junk pile by the warhead detonating against the hangar door, just as the simulations had predicted. Carefully, the sapper pulled the loose pieces out to better see the big object that the missile fragment had punched through. Normally, he'd take some images and measurements of the object to plug into a stress model so that he could cut it apart safely, but with Darth Vader impatiently standing below… The sapper took the laser cutter from his tool holder, reached in and began to carefully cut through the large piece of metal.

Attaching a motion alarm to the remaining metal, he flicked on his light to look through the enlarged hole. He put away the laser cutter and pulled out an extendable manipulator - there was no way he was going to reach through that hole with his arm - and used it to pull out more scrap, some of which took a bit more effort to shift than he expected and there were some unhappy sounds from the pile - and the motion alarm - as he worked them free.

There. Glinting with reflected light, the lumpy and twisted, broken, studded ring that was his target was wedged firmly into the side of what appeared to be a piece of keel frame, which - the sapper unhappily noted - appeared to be forming some of the central support for the whole pile of scrap. A quick check with the hand-held spectrometer confirmed the ring fragment to be of the same material as the other pieces they recovered, then the sapper took the laser cutter and - aiming carefully - began to melt away some of the keel frame that the ring fragment had embedded itself into.

He had nearly finished the last of the cuts when the motion alarm's beeps began to grow more insistent and the whole pile let out a groan of deforming metal. The sapper hurriedly put the cutter away and grabbed the manipulator, tractoring one end to the ring fragment as he wrapped the loop on the other end around his arm. The motion alarm's beeps merged into one shrill shriek as the pile shuddered, and the sapper fumbled for the repulsorlift controls as debris bounced off his armour. Throwing the unit into reverse, he felt pain shoot through his arm as the force transferred along it as he briefly looked up at the mass above him -

He had to do a double-take to confirm it. The huge agglomeration of metal above him was moving _upwards_?

He was dumbfounded for a moment, then he gradually looked down. There the Dark Lord stood, one hand upraised as if supporting the whole pile - and looking unfazed about it, as if the whole mass weighed less than a gram.

"Do not rush, Trooper," Vader's voice rumbled through his com. "This piece is vital to solving the murders of the Reprisal's crew." The trooper nodded jerkily - still stunned by the casual display of power - and turned back to the task of retrieving the pesky piece of alien missile drive.

* * *

Tatoo I and II were at their zenith and sane creatures had long since scurried for cover from the merciless heat and light. In the Jundland Wastes, however, there were two beings that didn't care, and not everyone was sure about their sanity either.

The first was a Tusken Raider undergoing a ritual to advance in status in his tribe, and he sat motionless atop a high spire of rock, indifferent to the heat, sand and wind. He was not indifferent, however, to the strange sounds growing in intensity from the canyons below, and he suddenly moved with surprising quickness, unslinging a rifle and aiming it at the fast-moving, black-clad object in the depths of the canyon, only to have an unseen force wrench the rifle barrel around and he only saved himself from a long fall by re-slinging the rifle and grabbing onto the rock beneath him with both hands.

The other uncaring creature, having stopped himself from being shot with a flicker of Force power, now refocused all his attention on the winding canyons and gunned the throttle of the speeder bike even further. Ordinary people would have marvelled at how the rider managed to anticipate the twists and turns of the canyons perfectly, and Sith and Jedi alike would have marvelled at how in tune Darth Vader was with the Force.

Even as a Jedi, nobody had quite understood Vader's skill at and apparent need to fly. He himself had long realised that flying was when he felt most at peace with himself and when he could open himself up to the Force in full, and he relished the power flowing through him as he shot through the narrow passages at speeds which would have resulted in the destruction of any other pilot.

Presently, though, he felt the tug of the Force drawing him to a particular location and he began to gradually climb, leaving the narrow canyons for the even narrower ridges and beginning to slow down as his mood began to blacken once more. Finally, he came to a small dwelling perched atop a cliff and he took a moment after parking and getting off the speeder bike to confirm his suspicions in the Force. The resulting surge of anger at how Obi-Wan Kenobi had hidden from him for so long was tempered only at his satisfaction of finally killing him on the Death Star, nearly three standard months ago and his dark form seemed to leach the light from the air as he strode towards the dwelling.

The inside was dark and cool - just as a well-designed Tatooine dwelling should be in the heat of midday - and neatly ordered, showing that the former occupant hadn't made a too-hasty departure but had known he was going to be gone for a while. Vader stepped into the middle of the main room and paused, his respirator making the only sound in the place, as he reached out with black tendrils of the Force.

Some… _thing_ … was resisting his probes, he soon realised, something that had the taint of his former master about them, and he directed his rage at Kenobi into his Force probe. The resistance finally crumbled and following the Force, he stepped towards a case that was partially hidden behind cushions and rugs. His lightsaber made short work of the lock and he lifted the lid to find a stash of Jedi paraphernalia and a bunch of books, some with more locks on the side.

Vader picked out the first of the locked books and examined it. The cover was blank, bearing no witness to whatever may be inside. The DNA lock yielded to a brief burst of concentration with the Force, revealing a half-written journal on Jedi teachings. Vader flicked through the written portion of disgust. _So, this is what you were doing in your 'retirement', old man? Collating your lies in the hope of duping another innocent generation?_ Vader was about to throw down the book and stab the lot of them with his lightsaber when he noticed the letter written on the first leaf.

 _For Luke_ , the first line read. Who was Luke?

His curiosity aroused, Vader read through the rest of the letter, realising that the book was written for one particular person - this mysterious Luke, who seemed to be the child of a Jedi. Kenobi's child? Vader dismissed the thought as soon as it occurred - Kenobi had been the model Jedi, never one to form attachments and go against the perfidious Jedi code. Briefly, the memory of Vader's beloved wife, heavy with child, lying still on the landing pad on Mustafar, flashed before his eyes and his anger surged anew at what had been taken from him. Normally he would let that anger run its course but he used his self-control to screw it down tight, bottling it up to release at a more opportune moment. He had a chance here to find this Jedi child and destroy Kenobi's legacy once and for all.

The growing thrum of engines aroused him from his black thoughts. Just as planned. Excellent. He put the book back in the case, picked the case up with the Force and stepped outside to find a sleek, chrome-skinned craft landing on a nearby flat shelf of rock, and the hatch opened to reveal a dark-haired, slim human woman, along with a silver protocol droid and his astromech companion.

The woman strode up to him, a spherical object in one hand. "Find out what you wanted, My Lord?"

"That and more," Vader rumbled in reply, case trailing obediently behind him. "Are you sure there will be no trace of our presence, Doctor?"

"This molecular bomb hasn't failed me before," the doctor replied.

"See to it, then," the Dark Lord remarked, taking the case into the J-Type Nubian yacht and securing it as a brilliant flash filtered in through the cockpit windows. He stepped outside again to find Obi-Wan's former dwelling standing exactly as he had found it.

"All done," the woman remarked cheerfully. "Anything else?" Wordlessly, the Dark Lord proffered a data chip, which the woman took with a curious expression.

"This is all the data we have recovered on the vessel which attacked Jabba's Palace," Vader explained. "I would like an independent opinion of it."

The woman shrugged. "I guess it's not archaeology, but I should be able to tease out something. Usual terms?" A single nod was Vader's only sign of agreement. The woman shrugged again in acknowledgement. "Beetee!" she called out and the twittering astromech turned and moved to intercept her as she headed towards the Nubian yacht, the protocol droid training behind and complaining about there being no-one to torture.

The doctor fed the data card into the astromech before the trio stepped into the yacht, and Vader watched the spacecraft lift off without a flicker of movement, only making his way back to the speeder bike once the Nubian had vanished. Soon, he was immersed in the Force again as he tore through the canyons, this time with a distinct edge of dark pleasure to his mood as he contemplated the upcoming hunt for the young Jedi his old master had sought to hide from him.

* * *

"Lord Vader?" the major queried in trepidation. There was no response from the Dark Lord, ensconced as he was in the Mos Eisley Public Records.

Major Arlo sighed and turned away briefly. Lord Vader had a reputation of being…difficult…to work with, to say the least, but he took a bit of personal pride in the fact that none of his command had incurred the Sith Lord's wrath enough to be killed or injured. Still, it was at moments like these where he truly felt stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"Major?" a deep voice rumbled from beside him and it took all of his training not to jump in surprise. Lord Vader loomed above him, only the sound of his respirator giving away the fact that he wasn't a statue. "You have a message for me?"

"Yes, My Lord," Major Arlo managed to answer without stammering. "Grand General Tagge's Star Destroyer has dropped out of hyperspace and is sending a shuttle down to pick you up. _Devastation_ 's flight operations estimate arrival within the half-hour."

"How kind of the General," Vader remarked. Major Arlo kept his mouth firmly shut, clearly remembering the simmering rage the Dark Lord had fallen into when Grand General Tagge called away his shuttle following the destruction of the Reprisal, effectively leaving Vader stranded on Tatooine.

"Inform the shuttle that I can be retrieved from this location," Vader continued, handing a data chip to the Major. "Yes sir," Arlo replied as the Dark Lord brushed passed him, his sense of entrapment growing, and he fingered the card absent-mindedly as he wondered how he was going to report Vader's intransigence to the Grand General.

"Major Arlo?" Vader had stopped at the end of the corridor. "Accompany me, Major." Holding in a sigh, the major did as ordered.

They walked together in silence for nearly half a minute before Vader spoke again. "I am impressed with the conduct of the Garrison, Major."

Major Arlo nearly walked into the wall in astonishment, and it took him a while to find his voice. "Thank you very much, My Lord; you flatter us."

"I do not flatter, Major," Vader replied. "I have been most impressed and pleased by the resourcefulness, work ethic and presentation of the Garrison, and I would be as pleased to have the soldiers of your Garrison by my side in battle as I would soldiers from any other of the Emperor's Legions."

Major Arlo said nothing. He wasn't quite sure what would come out of his mouth had he opened it, so he kept silent and basked in the praise of his soldiers.

"By maintaining this work ethic, presentation and professionalism on a world such as Tatooine," Vader continued, "in a city such as Mos Eisley, your Garrison, Major, shows the citizens of the Emperor on this planet that as distant as it may be from Imperial Centre, the Empire's strength, justice and order is still present and powerful. Continue in this vein, Major, and I assure you of a long and fruitful career in the service of the Emperor."

"Lord Vader…" Arlo began to reply, then stopped and chuckled humourlessly. "Permission to speak freely, My Lord?" His only answer was a slight incline of Vader's head.

"My Lord," Arlo began, "I guess the best way to put this is 'your reputation precedes you.' I would have to say that when General Tagge put you in charge of the investigation of the attack on Jabba the Hutt and the _Reprisal_ , with the resources of the Garrison at your, ah, disposal, there was much trepidation within the Garrison. Indeed, when I heard how you assisted my sappers with the scrap pile…well, with respect, Lord Vader, I did wonder whether my troops were speaking about the right person."

"Major, the only people who need to fear me are those who would seek to test the Emperor's will," Vader rumbled in reply. "That includes those who are not competent to perform the role they are assigned." He indicated the chip in the Major's hand. "A commendation of the Garrison to Grand General Tagge is included on that chip, Major. My only advice would be to ensure that it does not go to your head."

Major Arlo finally smiled at Vader. "My Lord, it has been an unexpected pleasure to serve with you over this fortnight. I'll transmit your instructions to the _Devestation_ at once." He came to attention and saluted, which Vader acknowledged with a slight bow of his head before sweeping into the vehicle pool, leaving Major Arlo fingering the message chip once again. Giving Grand General Tagge bad news was normally tricky - but with Darth Vader backing him up? Easiest assignment ever.

* * *

Darth Vader stopped the speeder bike over fifty metres away from the homestead, his senses tingling. Something was wrong with the view he was presented with… He called up the after-action report of the stormtrooper squad who had traced the droids to this homestead, which allowed him to quickly realise that someone had visited the homestead very soon after the squad had left - perhaps mere minutes. That could be the only explanation for the two graves off to one side. Even bones were picked off very quickly by Tatooine's scavengers.

Vader stepped off the bike, striding towards the ruined homestead. Whoever buried the remains of Owen and Beru Lars could only have been someone with close connections to them, and Imperial questioning of the inhabitants of nearby Anchorhead had revealed that news of the death of the Lars' had been slow to spread. So that narrowed the gravediggers down to two possible people: Kenobi, or the mysterious Luke.

Vader made his way down into the central well and paused, stretching out with the Force just as he had done in Kenobi's dwelling. This time there was no resistance to his Force probe, and he strode into one of the rooms set off from the well.

The stormtrooper squad had been very thorough in their search for the droids and hadn't seen a need to clean up after trashing the sleeping room. Still, when sifting through the debris, Vader could make out that it was the room of a young boy, on the cusp of manhood…someone who was a keen pilot and mechanic, and who dreamed of life off of Tatooine. What there wasn't, however, was any sign that the boy had any potential in the Force; not even the remains or hints of the Force-sensitive toys that young initiates had been given in the Jedi Temple. Miffed at coming to a dead-end, Vader continued his search in the main sleeping room, then the main living room, before striding out into the central well again, puzzled.

He began to go over what he knew. The records he'd found revealed that his step-brother and step-sister-in-law had a ward named Luke, actual family name unknown; said Luke was known in the area as a brilliant if reckless pilot and a good mechanic, and eager to get away from his aunt and uncle and off of the planet. 'Old Ben' was a known hermit who lived beyond the Dune Sea whom nobody had seen in years. According to the brief interrogation the squad had subjected the Lars' to, Luke had gone off an an errand that morning, the day after they'd purchased the droids.

So. A pair of droids - one astromech, the other very likely a protocol droid - are dropped onto Tatooine from a Rebel cruiser following its capture. Said droids find their way into the possession of the Lars', who are also wards of a boy called Luke, possibly the same Luke that Kenobi had been writing his journals for. The Lars are killed by an investigating stormtrooper squad and are buried, probably by Luke; soon afterwards, the _Millennium Falcon_ blasts its way out of Mos Eisley with Obi-Wan Kenobi, the droids and another young man on board, and the captain and crew rescues Princess Leia. The _Millennium Falcon_ travels to Yavin and the Death Star follows, where a Force-sensitive pilot fires the killing shot. Could this Force-sensitive pilot be Luke 'Lars'?

There was something here he was missing, Vader was sure of it. It was only just out of reach and if he just _concentrated_ …

"Lord Vader!" The shout from the top of the pit derailed his thoughts, and Vader looked up to find Grand General Tagge peering down at him. Wordlessly, Vader turned and made his way to the surface.

"Grand General Tagge," Vader offered by way of greeting as he strode past Tagge towards the shuttle. Caught off-guard, the general had to hurry to catch up with the Dark Lord, something which pleased Vader.

Both Grand General and Dark Lord were silent as the shuttle lifted off. It was only once they had left the atmosphere that the general turned to speak.

"I do hope, Lord Vader," Tagge remarked in a falsely conversational tone, "that your diversion relates to the investigation into the _Reprisal_ 's destruction?"

"It relates to investigating potential threats to the Empire," Vader replied. "That was my original reason for coming to this system - to investigate the events leading up to the destruction of the Death Star."

"And what have you found?"

"A possible lead," Vader answered brusquely. "But more work is required."

"You will have to do that work whilst en route to your next assignment," Tagge remarked. "The fact that the Rebels now have the ability to easily defeat _Imperial_ -class Star Destroyers lends new urgency to our efforts to destroy them."

"Indeed."

Silence descended again as the shuttle entered the Devestation's landing bay and touched down. There was a sharp look from the General as both he and Vader rose together from their seats and the mistrustful expression remained even as Vader let the General disembark first, as Imperial protocol dictated for rank precedence. As Vader descended the ramp, he saw that Tagge was waiting for him, back to the shuttle, hands behind his back. He stopped beside the general and they both watched the bustle of the bay for a moment.

"I am sending you to the Candoras sector, Lord Vader, where one of our more…inventive…commanders is stationed," Tagge finally announced. "I believe that he may be able to draw information out of the data you have collected on Tatooine, Lord Vader, much faster than Imperial Intelligence will be able to, and it will probably be more useful."

Tagge turned to face the Dark Lord to emphasise his next statement. "The Empire's situation is growing more dire with each passing week, Vader. More and more systems are reporting rebellions amongst their populations and the Imperial Fleet would be spread too thinly were we to attempt to tackle all the spot-fires at once. We lost the opportunity to destroy the Rebellion at Yavin; we must move quickly to ensure we can grab the next opportunity when it presents itself."

"Be assured, General, that I understand the risk to the Empire the Rebellion currently presents," Vader intoned, "and I will be expending every personal effort to crush these traitors, once and for all." With that pronouncement, he swept off towards the bay exit, leaving the Grand General shaking his head silently at the Sith Lord's dramatics.


	12. Chapter 12

This is a bitty chapter; I'm beginning the setup for the next major chunk of the story, which will take a few chapters to complete.

* * *

"…And finally, we are back at the main hangar. I'm not going to say much here, as you all probably saw this when you arrived on the _Redemption_ , and as starfighter pilots, you probably know much more about them than I do!" The silver-haired woman concluded with a beaming smile and all the inductees laughed, Tycho Celchu included. Despite the woman (whose name he had bloody well forgotten; all that he could remember was that she was named after a season) stating at the beginning that she didn't do induction tours all that often, Tycho thought that she'd been helpful and informative, although he'd noticed a few things she'd skipped over.

So as the other pilots drifted away, he hung around with the others who also had lingering questions, but deliberately waited until they were alone.

"Yes, Lieutenant Celchu?" she asked, and he absentmindedly noted that she had a good memory for faces and names.

"Yes, uh…" He, on the other hand, was demonstrating how poor his memory was in comparison.

"Winter."

"Winter. Yes, sorry. I, uh… I just wanted to ask you about a couple of things I noticed that you didn't touch on."

"Yes?" Tycho noted that her expression became slightly guarded.

"I've noticed that there are a couple of groups of people on the _Redemption_ that are unfamiliar - well, when I say that, I mean that I don't recognise their uniforms. In fact, there's a couple now," he remarked, pointing across the bay to a pair of people, one dressed in grey-and-green overalls, the other in black overalls with light-green flashes and a black beret. "Would you know who they are?"

She turned to follow his finger, waiting for a second before answering. "Lieutenant…" She sighed. "Lieutenant, honestly, the Rebellion is taking in so many new groups nowadays, It's getting very difficult to keep track of them. Sorry, I don't know who they are."

Tycho held up his hands in apology. "I'm sorry, Winter, I put you on the spot there. I mean, I wouldn't be able to list the insignia of all the various system security forces in the galaxy. It's just…"

"Yes?" Winter prompted as Tycho trailed off, the expression becoming more wary.

"Well…" Tycho scratched his head in puzzlement. "My understanding of the Rebellion - from the Imperial point of view, mind you - was that there were four or five systems contributing the bulk of forces, with the rest made up of a conglomeration of splinter factions. Those people look like they're from one of those four or five big systems, but I don't recognise them."

He turned to look at Winter and shrugged. The woman favoured him with a lopsided smile. "Oftentimes, Lieutenant, the view from outside doesn't correlate with the view from inside." With that, she walked off, leaving him still scratching his head in the middle of the hangar.

* * *

"…and then, if all goes according to plan, we'll rendezvous here," Captain Wedge Antilles finished, indicating a point on the holochart as he did so. "Any questions?" he asked, looking over the swelled ranks of still-new Rogue Squadron; there wasn't a peep from the assembled pilots, so he dismissed them and began to tidy up his briefing materials.

"Captain Antilles?" came a voice at his shoulder, and he looked up to find one of the new recruits standing at parade rest - Celchu, if he remembered correctly. A bright young thing, intense, but could go far.

"Yes, Lieutenant Celchu?" Antilles asked.

"Sir, I have a question, but unrelated to the mission. Would it be possible to talk in private, sir?" the young Lieutenant asked.

Antilles looked him over for a moment, silently cursing Luke Skywalker for heading off to be trained as a Jedi and leaving him with the hard work. "All right. My office," he answered, heading off and not checking to see if the young man was following.

His office aboard the cruiser _Yavin IV_ was small enough that two people made it cramped, a situation that wasn't helped with folders of flimsi and datachips everywhere. "Alright, Lieutenant," he remarked once he was sure the hatch was sealed. "Say your piece."

The lieutenant hesitated for a second - Antilles got the distinct impression that the Alderaanian wasn't usually so unsure of himself - before speaking. "Captain, when I arrived, I brought with me a specific piece of information that I felt would be of high value to the Alliance. Since then, well…" He trailed off here. Antilles would wager that Celchu felt he was heading into waters too deep.

"Lieutenant," Antilles spoke to forestall the young pilot continuing for the moment whilst he gathered his thoughts. "Lieutenant… I know the piece of information you're referring to, and I know just how valuable that information is to the Alliance. I gather that you're wondering why we're doing milk runs instead of gearing up for an attack on the target. Well, Lieutenant - I can sate your curiosity. The Alliance is gearing up for such an attack, but it has a multitude of assets at its disposal. We as a squadron have not been deemed necessary for that attack to succeed."

Celchu nodded nervously. "I understand, sir. However, in conversations with other squadrons, it seems that the starfighters are slated for a multitude of other small missions, not one big one. I mean - sir, if I'm out of line - "

"You are, Lieutenant," Antilles growled, and the young man shut up, all but coming to attention. Wedge gave muffled sigh. "Lieutenant, I believe that the Imperials would have impressed on you the need for operational security, right?"

"They did, sir, but none of the pilots I talked to revealed details of their missions, nor did I ask them to." Antilles made a mental note of that - a treecat should be able to determine if he was telling the truth or not. "It's what they didn't say that -"

"- made you put pieces of the puzzle together," Antilles finished off the lieutenant's sentence. He cursed under his breath - Celchu was good, very good, and Wedge wondered if he should give the young recruit to someone like Cracken instead.

"Lieutenant, let me ask you a question," Antilles began. "What are your feelings towards the Imperials regarding Alderaan?"

There was a sharp intake of breath from the blue-eyed man opposite, as expected. "Sir…" Celchu began to answer, picking his words carefully. "Sir, I'd be lying if I said that I feel nothing at all about Alderaan's destruction. However, I'm a professional, sir. I've got no qualms about these other missions we're slated to fly, if it helps out the Alliance in the long run. It's just…"

"You've handed the Alliance an opportunity on a platter," Wedge said, "and it just seems to have disappeared into the aether." He nodded. "Lieutenant, as I said before, it was a very valuable piece of information and it certainly was taken very seriously, but the Alliance is more complicated than you think. Rest assured, we have taken the opportunity."

Celchu nodded, a tiny bit of relief showing on his features. "Sir."

"I believe you have a mission to prep for, Lieutenant. Dismissed."

* * *

"Well, Skipper, I see lots of little Star Destroyers…"

"Isn't it weird, how those gigantic Imperial-class ships are now little?"

"…and I see empty slips, but I don't see a sixteen-kilometre behemoth at all."

Standing behind her tactical officer, Lieutenant Commander Broughton, Captain Joanna Dushku of the HMS _Warspite_ simply looked at her tactical officer's disappointed expression and shrugged. "We always figured the Empire would realise that they were compromised fairly soon, Guns - which, of course, why we're here," she answered.

'Here' was the outskirts of the Kuat System; the inner system was home to the Kuat Drive Yards, one of the Empire's largest shipyards and according to intelligence from a recent defector, one of the ships in the docks was the Empire's brand-new 'Super' Star Destroyer, as-yet uncommissioned and still being fitted out. Recognising a rare opportunity, a strike squadron had been hastily assembled under the command of Vice-Admiral Krane. Fortunately, Krane had been talked out of his preferred immediate-strike option to allow for reconnaissance, and Warspite had been tasked with sending a probe through one of the busiest and most heavily-defended volumes of space in the galaxy.

Dushku leaned over Broughton's shoulder to examine the feed from the heavy cruiser's optical interferometers more closely. "Was there a large battle fought recently - has anyone heard of anything from Rebellion High Command?"

In his chair, Executive Officer Commander Jack Dawson did a quick search through the ship's library. "Based on what we downloaded before departure, the largest engagement to date after the Battle of Yavin was the action at Garrketh," he reported. "I'm not sure about any other uninvolved activity."

"Transfer this to the main display, please," Dushku asked Broughton, then headed over as the fuzzy arrowhead shapes of the Star Destroyers appeared in the centre of the bridge.

"That is a lot of ships," the Assistant Tactical Officer, Lieutenant Wui-Yen Tsang remarked. "Are they all new construction? It doesn't seem like it."

"You'd expect to see that many ships in docks after a major battle," Dawson replied. "But if there's been no action lately, then why are they all in?"

"No competent naval ops planner would have that many ships in for overhaul at once," Broughton mused.

"It must be a trap," Wui-Yen blurted out. Everyone on the bridge turned to look at her and she blushed. "I… it's entirely possible that if the Empire realised that they were compromised, they may have also had enough time to bring in more full-strength ships to lure us in."

Dushku raised an eyebrow. "An interesting hypothesis, Lieutenant. How can we prove or disprove it?"

Wui-Yen blew out a nervous breath before answering. "We're a bit far away to resolve what damage the ships in dock may have, or whether the hulls of those Star Destroyers are open or not, or whether they have their full complement of weapons, but once we recover our drone we can make an assessment."

Dushku nodded. "Agreed, Lieutenant, on both counts - that many Imperial-class Star Destroyers in dock, with no reports of major battles, and our main target missing? It looks remarkably fishy but as you said, we're a bit far away to confirm our suspicions and I'm loath to move any closer, so let's get to the rendezvous undetected, then we can have a closer look at what the Empire is really up to."

* * *

He scowled and squinted as he looked out the forward viewport - it was an entirely reflexive and useless gesture from when the furthest a human could see would have been a few kilometers. Even if the viewports were at full magnification, he still wouldn't be able to see details of the Kuat system, light-days away as it was from their current position.

Still scowling, he turned to look into the starboard crew pit. The Signals lieutenant, feeling his gaze, glanced upwards to meet it and imperceptibly shook his head.

"Damn," Senior Captain Firmus Piett muttered under his breath, turning back to note the time and date on the chrono below the viewport. He remained this way for a few more seconds, deep in thought, before turning and stalking up the central gangway, pausing only briefly to give instructions to his flag lieutenant before making his way off the bridge.

* * *

The wardroom was stuffed with captains. On a vessel as large as this not-yet-commissioned 'Super' Star Destroyer, departments were so large that they were headed with junior captains, all reporting to the Senior Captain as commanding officer of the ship overall. They all stood as one as Piett stepped into the wardroom and made his way to the seat at the head of the table. "As you were," he remarked as he sat down, the rest of the staff copying his actions as a small blue holo lit up in the centre of the table.

"As you have all probably realised," Piett began as he arranged his card folios and datapad, "our attempt to trap the Rebels at Kuat has been unsuccessful. That said, I do believe we have gained some learnings from this very impromptu exercise, so this debrief is intended to capture those so that we can action them. First of all, I have asked Senior Captain Nalgen at Kuat to provide us a report of the last seventy-two hours. Captain?" he finished, gesturing to the small holographic figure.

"Thank you, Captain," holo-Nalgen replied. "We managed to complete the false scaffolding around the Star Destroyers within the timeline projected we would have before the Rebel attack, so we can assign full marks to readiness. However, we reported no sign of any Rebel ships, not even in the outer system."

"That can't be," one of the captains down the table exclaimed. "Surely no-one would be so idiotic as to give up an opportunity like the one they were handed!"

"Are we sure the leak was genuine? And the traitor defected?" another captain asked.

"Very," Captain Hirtek, head of Intelligence confirmed forcefully. "And our sources have confirmed ex-Lieutenant Celchu has defected to the Rebellion." A low murmur arose around the table, more in response to the confirmation that one of their rising star pilots had become a turncoat.

"Commanders," Piett said firmly, and the murmuring ceased. He paused for a moment to refocus their attention. "Captain Nalgen has more to report. Captain?"

"We did detect the possible presence of a ship in the outer system," Nalgen began again, "but it was impossible to localise completely. The first detection was on the trailward side of the system, then there were sporadic detections as they traversed the outer system. The last detection was seven hours after the first. Sweeps of the outer system since have not detected anything untoward."

There was silence around the wardroom table as Piett let Nalgen's report sink in before responding. "Captain, in your estimation, do you believe an attack is imminent?"

"No, Captain - I believe that the vessel we detected was a reconnaissance flight, which would've confirmed that your vessel was missing, and possibly confirmed the presence of extra fully-functional Star Destroyers as well."

"Very well, Captain. Thank you for your report," Piett concluded, as Nalgen saluted before the holo faded away.

"Sir, that doesn't make sense," Hirtek piped up again, looking at the data on the stealthy ship. "At that distance, it'd be difficult for our scopes to resolve the state of the ships in dock, even with some form of interferometry. It still doesn't explain why they didn't fall for our trap."

"Maybe it has something to do with this high-speed object that traversed the inner system," remarked Captain Gorlon of Starfigher Command, also looking at the data. As a surprised murmur swept the table, the captain transferred the relevant data to the table holo, and some of the murmurs became snorts of disbelief.

"Two partial contacts and a probable?" Captain Spriet of Navigation exclaimed. "That's hardly convincing data…and those timestamps! No starfighter could achieve that - not even yours!"

"Commanders!" Piett barked again, as a full-blown argument threatened to erupt. Once again, quiet descended and heads snapped up in acknowledgement - except for Commander Xurin of Hypernav, who belatedly realised the change and looked up from the data on his pad. "My apologies, sir - just some interesting stuff in the gravitics…" he trailed off, gesturing meekly at the pad. Piett gave him a slight smile in recognition that his ire wasn't directed at the commander.

"Hirtek, look further into all this data," Piett directed his order at the Intelligence head. "Give me a report on all unusual signals detected by 1800 hours tomorrow please. If the Rebels are using some low-observation technology we haven't seen them using before, we want to be aware of it."

Piett then moved onto other matters. "Vishnar, what's the status of our fitout?"

"Going well," the stocky captain replied. "The fact that there was no rebel attack is fortunate in the respect that we've been able to pull ahead of our schedule and…" He trailed off as a muted chime sounded from Piett's pad, and the senior officer stabbed at the button, annoyed at the interruption.

"Yes, what is it?" he demanded.

"Apologies for the disturbance, sir," the watch officer replied, with a hint of panic in his voice, "but we've detected an approaching shuttle that's just dropped out of hyperspace. It's displaying the callsign _Imperial-Two_."

Eyes widened all around the wardroom. Shuttles could only display that callsign if there was one particular person on board.

"Thank you, Commander Linz. Prepare the ship to receive distinguished guests," Piett replied, then cut the call. "Well, it was always expected that he'd come on-board once we were commissioned," he remarked to the wardroom, not that it seemed to ease his officers' worries any. "Very well," he continued, standing and prompting the rest of the wardroom to follow. "Let's go receive Lord Vader."

* * *

Piett had only met Vader briefly once before, at a celebration for that year's recently-promoted captains, and he had got the clear impression that the man was not one for ceremony. This occasion only reinforced Piett's perception, as the Dark Lord gave the assembled honour guard barely a glance as he strode past.

"Captain Piett." The greeting was short and perfunctory. Ever the professional, Piett let it roll off his back.

"Lord Vader. Welcome aboard the pre-commissioning unit -"

"No longer," Vader interrupted, handing over a palm-pad. Piett flipped the cover open, keyed the thumb release and the palm-pad displayed the orders loaded onto it from Grand General Tagge, which effectively commissioned the vessel, now called _Executor,_ confirmed the command of Senior Captain Piett - and handed the ship to Lord Vader to do with as he pleased.

It might've run roughshod over naval tradition, but who was he to tell Lord Vader that? "Very well sir," Piett remarked, making a mental note to do an all-ship broadcast later on. "Welcome aboard the _Executor_. How can we assist?"

"What is the status of the ship?" Vader rumbled.

"Just about ready," Piett replied, and he could imagine the eyes narrowing behind the dark-red lenses of Vader's helmet - if he had eyes. "We were forced to leave dock early due to a leak to the Rebellion about our status; we attempted to set a trap for the Rebels but failed. In the mean-"

Piett broke off at an upraised hand from Vader. "How did the trap fail?" the basso voice enquired.

"The rebels refused to engage," Piett answered. "Kuat Station detected evidence of a ship sneaking through the outer system a couple of days ago, and my Intelligence department is working on data which suggests a high-speed, controlled object flew through the inner system at the same time."

"Does the data suggest gravity-based drives?"

Piett was taken aback by the question at first. Reactionless, gravity-based drives were possible - any gravity-manipulating civilisation had the potential to develop such drives - but no-one had succeeded in fully removing the need for reaction thrust. Cautiously, he answered, "Some of the data does show gravity anomalies, sir, but-"

"That chip folio contains data on a Rebel vessel which attacked and killed Jabba the Hutt in his palace, and destroyed the Star Destroyer _Reprisal_ at Tatooine," Vader remarked, indicating the folio that the palm-pad was resting in. "Be sure to have your Intelligence department take that data into account when developing their analysis."

Piett felt the blood drain from his face at the seemingly-casual mention of the destruction of an Imperial Star Destroyer. "Good grief," he murmured. "Where did they get this technology? From somewhere in the Unknown Regions?"

"Perhaps," Vader replied. "The person who can assist in answering that is in the Candoras Sector. Take us there at best possible speed, Captain." And with that the Dark Lord strode off. Piett remained in the middle of the hangar bay, tapping the palm-pad against his other hand, mind whirling with potentials.

"Sir?" came a query from his shoulder, and he turned to find his executive officer, Captain Urrim, standing at parade rest nearby. "Orders, sir?"

Pitt thought for a moment more. "What's the status of the Star Destroyers we were going to use at Kuat?"

"Not sure, sir," Urrim replied. "We requisitioned them from several nearby squadrons, and the admirals gave us permission to use them until no longer required."

Piett digested this information for a moment. Technically, the _Executor_ was to be the flagship of a squadron and they were awaiting a vice-admiral to take overall command, but events had happened so quickly that there hadn't even been a decision yet on the ships to make up the squadron. Perhaps, with Darth Vader onboard…

"Very well," Piett finally said. "Have Vishnar expedite any remaining fitout tasks that require Kuat workers, then once they're complete, we'll ship them back to Kuat; Engineering will have to complete all other work whilst we're underway. Also have the detached Star Destroyers at Kuat make their way to the Candoras sector; we'll rendezvous with them there and form them into an ad-hoc squadron with us."

"Sir," Urrim replied and went off to carry out his orders. His mind idle for the moment, Piett's thoughts turned to his not-quite-authorised actions. Technically, his Senior Captain rank was only over the Executor, but Senior Captains generally commanded Star Destroyer squadrons. He should be able to have Vader rubber-stamp his scratch taskforce, he concluded. His thoughts abruptly went down a side-track: what to call his newly formed squadron?

In a flash of inspiration, it came to him: _The Death Squadron_. Standing alone in the middle of the bay, the corners of Piett's mouth gradually curled up into a smile. _Perfect_.

* * *

'Senior Captain' is the rank Timothy Zahn gave to Thrawn in 'Choices Of One', which is set around the same time as this story, and it appears to be a one-star/commodore rank, judging by how Thrawn acts in Zahn's story.


	13. Chapter 13

Once again, some reference distances in space: geostationary orbit is about 36,000km above the Earth's surface, while the Earth itself is about 12,700km in diameter.

* * *

"Captain?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Captain Lorth Needa responded somewhat testily, whilst remaining focused on the manoeuvring plot from the bridge wing as the pilot guided the Imperial Star Destroyer _Avenger_ out of Kuat Drive Yards. Despite the helmswoman and pilot doing most of the work, they were still one of six Star Destroyers attempting to depart the busiest shipyard in the galaxy all at once and Needa's personal experience of the Bilbringi Disaster made him pay more attention to dock manoeuvres than other captains would.

"Sir, apologies for the interruption, however Gravitics have picked up signals similar to those we saw last week," the lieutenant persisted quietly. He indicated the manoeuvring plot and, at Needa's nod, switched it to the tactical plot. A single dot pulsed faintly in the outer system, indicative of a tentative contact.

Needa looked at the unassuming blip for a moment, then flicked back to the manoeuvring plot briefly. "Signal the _Annihilator_ ," he eventually said, naming the Star Destroyer furthest from them. "See if they have the same signal on their scopes and get a bearing from them." The lieutenant went to carry out the order as Needa refocused on the manoeuvring plot again, but not fully this time, as an idea began to form in his head.

The lieutenant reappeared after fifteen minutes and Needa gave him a look as he approached. "I expect less tardiness for such a simple task next time, Lieutenant," he remarked.

"Sorry, sir, but I took the liberty of signalling the _Tyrant_ and the _Malignant_ and asking the same of them as well," the young man replied, slightly hesitant but with the belief that he'd done the right thing in his eyes. Again, he went to the plot with Needa's permission and switched it to tactical view. This time, the blip was steady and ringed, the sign of a firm contact, and position and range information appeared beside it.

The idea in his mind blossomed into full flower and a shark-like smile appeared on Needa's face. "Well done, Lieutenant," he remarked, quickly glancing out of the viewport - the _Avenger_ was clear of her false dock, the tugs were casting off their tractor lines and on the bridge proper, the pilot was handing back command to the officer of the watch. A quick check of the manoeuvring plot showed the other five Star Destroyers in a similar readiness state.

"Signal the squadron," Needa began to order. "We're going to jump to hyperspace…"

* * *

"I have a bad feeling about this," muttered Wui-Yen Tsang under her breath.

She felt as tight as a wound spring, sitting at the Tactical station in Auxiliary Control in her skinsuit and trying not to fidget, one eye on the interferometer feed and one ear on the discussion on the bridge between the two admirals and the Skipper. Despite their uneventful previous visit to the Kuat system, no-one on the _Warspite_ was so sanguine about coming back, not least the Skipper, who'd ordered them to General Quarters and was the reason why Wui-Yen was in the secondary command centre at the other end of the cruiser.

"They don't seem to be in a hurry to leave their docks," remarked Alliance Vice-Admiral Krane as he too observed the interferometer feed on the bridge. Wui-Yen could sense his desire to give the Empire another good hard wallop warring with his command instincts to consider all information available before launching an attack.

"Probably because they no longer suspect an attack," Manticorean Vice-Admiral Michael Oversteegen replied, his tone a bit sharp. "I'd imagine those pieces of false scaffolding would do a bit of damage if blown off during an ambush, so it looks like they're taking the time to remove them properly."

"Of course, they've probably already cleared their docks by now," the Skipper remarked, reminding everyone that could hear that they were reliant on lightspeed information only from Kuat IV, 40 light-minutes distant, after deciding that a drone deployment was too risky. Wui-Yen mentally agreed with Captain Dushku…

Except that it wasn't just a bit of mental inuition. She knew, somehow, that the six Star Destroyers that she could see lashing on tug tractor lines forty minutes ago were now clear of their docks and were preparing to leave to -

 _Here_. She sucked in her breath involuntarily as the realisation hit her. Those Star Destroyers were coming here, a brief memory of Krane explaining intra-system microjumping jumping to the front of her mind. Thoughts of how they had been detected flitted through her head, only to be quickly dispersed by an overriding recognition that _they had to get out of here_.

She began to turn away from her station to Commander Dawson, sitting in the centre of Auxiliary Control, but no sooner had she mustered the words in her head than her thoughts came to a crashing halt: how would she make him believe her? All she had was a gut feel; there was no evidence on their sensors that they'd been detected. Commander Dawson would have to be convinced that they were in imminent danger before he'd even recommend to the Skipper that they should bring the hyperdrive and the wedge to full power, as that would announce to the whole of Kuat where they were.

She turned back to her station, stomach twisting - and spotted Amir Surya at Navigation. The thought flashed into her head - if perhaps she could somehow get him to start up the hyperdrive, just so that it was warmed up and ready to translate the ship…

But the Indonesian-extraction lieutenant, despite being her good friend, was just as professional as she normally was, and she couldn't think of how she would convince him either. Defeated, she slumped back into her chair. Involuntarily, a mental image of the Navigation station formed in her mind from when she'd done a rotation as an ensign. It wouldn't have changed, of course, and she could see the hyperdrive start-up button… she imagined the button being pressed…

"Oi!" The shout from Navigation snapped her out of her daydream, and she blinked in surprise as Amir whirled to face the equally-started Commander Dawson. "Sir! The hyperdrive just activated itself!" he exclaimed, shock evident on his features.

"'Activated itself', Lieutenant? Are you sure?" Dawson queried in disbelief. Up on the bridge, there was similar consternation. "Commander? Navigation just informed me that the hyperdrive was just powered up from the Auxiliary Control station," Dushku was asking, a hint of anger in her voice. "What is going on down there?"

Dawson's reply was cut short by the shrill shriek of the proximity alarm, as four Star Destroyers flashed in from hyperspace to surround them, barely seven thousand kilometres distant. A second later, two more Star Destroyers dropped out of hyperspace to complete the cube.

Training took over as the _Warspite_ and her crew switched to battle stations, and Wui-Yen quickly snapped her helmet on as she checked the weapons readiness board. The heavy cruiser's wedge came to full power, and Wui-Yen felt a flicker of inertia as the cruiser whipped around and drove for the nearest corner of the cube. The visual feed switched from the bow and stern interferometers to the close-in opticals, and Wui-Yen could see the bright green turbolaser bolts flash out from their attackers, many splashing against the wedge bands, some being bent by the sidewalls - but not all of them, and _Warspite_ bucked as the remaining energy of the on-target bolts impacted against her armoured flanks. Laser light from ultraviolet to gamma-ray lanced out in response as the _Warspite_ corkscrewed, flinging countermissiles from her flanks as she did so in an attempt to screen the incoming fire.

"Standard hyperdrive ready!" Amir suddenly called out from his station. Dawson's eyes opened wide in recognition and he stabbed the comms stud for the bridge. "Captain, our standard hyperdrive is ready to go! Recommend we translate immediately!"

Wui-Yen didn't hear the captain's reply, but she did feel the nausea of alpha translation wash over her, and the shuddering of impacting fire was replaced by the tremble of a ship caught in a hyperspace current, before disappearing entirely as the Warspite switched from wedge to sails. She let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding and slowly relaxed back into her seat, undoing her helmet clasp as she did so and lifting it off her head.

"…Sir, it activated _by itself_." Wui-Yen blinked and turned to the Navigator's station as the unmuffled conversation registered. Amir was ramrod straight in his chair, but still held the gaze of Commander Dawson, standing in front of the station.

"Sir?" Wui-Yen said, and both men turned to look at her. "I believe I powered up the hyperdrive, sir," she said softly.

The commander's look darkened. "From your station, Lieutenant?" he queried.

She opened her mouth to reply, but it had gone dry and she had to swallow a few times to generate enough spit to talk. "No, sir - I believe I did it with my mind."

Dawson's eyebrows shot up in incredulity, then concern, flicking his gaze to the Engineering station, beside which the small-arms were kept. Belatedly, Wui-Yen remembered the mind-control nanotechnology that Mesa were notorious for. Had she…?

The hatch opened, admitting the Captain and the two Admirals. "Sirs, no further, please," Dawson said. "Lieutenant Tsang has just reported that - apparently - she powered up the hyperdrive, via the Navigation console, with her mind. I'd like to get Lieutenant Rinne and Pyry in here to confirm whether she's under the influence of Mesan nanotechnology." Pyry was Rinne's treecat, who rather liked Wui-Yen, and she liked the treecat in return.

Dushku and Admiral Oversteegen mirrored Dawson's concerned look and took a step back, but Krane remained still, a flicker of a smile appearing on his lips. "Perhaps there's another explanation, Commander," he said. "Perhaps the Force is with our young Lieutenant here."

* * *

The deck stopped trembling as the main guns fell silent, and Needa looked out of the viewport at where their quarry had been moments before. "They must've jumped to hyperspace. Navigation - get their last bearing - find out where they're headed!" he snapped.

The response was quick. "Sir, on their last heading, they were on a collision course for the _Malignant_."

Needa's head whipped around at that statement. "What?" He stalked over to the crew pit and looked down at the nervous lieutenant. "Do you have any other explanation for their disappearance?"

"No sir," the lieutenant replied, "but we've got good telemetry on their course. If they jumped to hyperspace, they would've hit the _Malignant_ on their way, and since she's still here…"

He trailed off as Needa looked up to quickly confirm that the _Malignant_ was, indeed, still there and in one piece. "Then what in the hells…"

"Maybe a cloaking device?" the officer of the watch offered.

Needa mulled it over for a second before shaking his head. "No - our turbolasers crossed and bracketed the space they would've been in after they disappeared," he replied. "We would've seen it if they had hit a cloaked vessel."

"Then where did they go?" the watch officer queried. Needa didn't answer, silently asking that question himself, before shuffling it into a corner of his memory for another time and straightening into parade-rest again.

"Well! As an impromptu exercise of the squadron in close-formation microjumping and gunnery, that went better than expected," Needa remarked. "We should be proud of ourselves; the only reason we lost our quarry was because they proved to be more slippery than expected." He thought briefly of how their turbolaser bolts had splashed off some rather powerful screens when their prey was in one orientation, yet had struck their target at other orientations. "Signal the squadron to make best speed to the Candoras sector. We'll have our combined Intelligence departments chew on what we observed here on our way there; our final report should provide some interesting reading to Lord Vader."

* * *

"I'm really flattered," Winter replied to her erstwhile suitor, "But I'm already waiting for somebody else." The excuse was beginning to wear a bit thin, as she'd been here for an hour and a half waiting for her companion, the latter half-hour of which had been spent fending off a local male businessman who didn't seem to be used to people saying 'no' to him. She'd known that this was a bad idea from the start.

The somewhat-expensive bar she was sitting in was located in Tanskrei, a small city on the tropical resort world of Kaal in the Yushan sector. Kaal was one of the Empire's more popular resort worlds, despite being in a Mid-Rim system - it advertised itself as 'a break from the busy hustle of the Galactic Core!' - and it was a firmly Imperial world, although the Imperial Forces presence on Kaal was relatively discreet.

Whether they were discreet or overt, all the usual problems followed the Imperial presence. They had never quite stomped out the equally-discreet but pervasive criminal underworld, which had flourished due to corruption within Imperial ranks. And with Imperial corruption and criminality came other undesirable elements, such as spice-running, stolen art fencing and slavery - and on a resort world, the most prevalent form of slavery was for pleasure, followed closely by gladiator slaves competing in 'rustic' fighting competitions.

So it wasn't too much of a surprise when Alliance Intelligence received word that a Rebel cell was operating on Kaal and wanted to make contact as a prelude to joining the wider Alliance movement. Alliance High Command had quickly approved the mission, with the chance of fostering a rebellion on an Imperial favourite resort world too good to ignore. The only problem was, their main Intelligence agents had all been sent off on a mission of even greater importance, one that Bail Organa was joining personally - so it fell to Winter Retrac to pursue the lead.

And it was going as badly as she feared. The 'first date' clandestine meet-up that the local contact had insisted on was better left to holovid fantasies, she had argued, with proof in the form of the liquored-up and amorous local she was trying harder and harder to dissuade and no sight of her contact. Sighing, she looked at her timepiece, decided that the contact was a bust and got up to leave.

A meaty paw laid itself on her forearm. "Hey, gorgeous, where d'ya think you're going?" the businessman leered at her.

"Away from you," she snarled in response, snatching her arm away and stalking out. The only positive aspect of the interaction, she thought, was that he'd reinforced her cover story.

Outside in the warm air, the street was gaudily lit as various bars, tapcafes and clubs offered their wares for people looking to have a good time. Winter made her way through a throng of people clothed just as gaudily and clearly looking to take up the establishments' offers. Crowds like these could be both a blessing and a curse: they could help her slip away or they could hide Imperial agents.

Presently she came to the local tram station, only to find it closed for maintenance. Muffling a growl of annoyance, she started to walk to her hotel, about twenty minutes away up a hill - the tram trip would've cut the travel time to five minutes.

She was reasonably fit but the Jhutmen Street Hill was a locally infamous climb and she paused for a moment at the top of a flight of stairs to catch her breath, the sounds of the party filtering up from below. Turning, she looked out towards the sea and at the flickers of phosphorescence from the native fish and, for the first time since Alderaan's destruction, felt a small moment of peace.

A sound nearby snapped her back to reality and she whipped her head around, then let out her breath again after locating the nearly-passed-out drunk lying on the sidewalk on the other side of the road. As she watched, the drunk shifted and snorted again before falling asleep once more, and Winter shook her head in disgust.

"Excuse me, miss."

She jumped with a shriek, whirling around to face the voice coming from behind her. The source turned out to be an average-looking man, trim but not too muscular and a generally plain face. He was holding his hands up in a 'I'm-sorry' gesture but lowered them again as Winter gathered her breath.

"I'm really sorry-"

"No, I am-"

They both stopped, then shared a soft chuckle at their attempts to apologise, before Winter indicated he should speak first.

"I'm really sorry for startling you, miss; I just wanted to ask you if you could let me go down the stairs," he said, indicating with his hand.

"Oh!" Obligingly, Winter stepped out of the way to let the man through. He smiled briefly and moved to the top of the stairs. "Is it a good night down there?" he asked as he did so.

"Meh," Winter said with a shrug. "May be for some people, but not for me tonight."

The man frowned briefly. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said. "I wish I could make it up to you."

Winter waved him off. "Thank you, but no, I'm alright. My hotel's just up there," she replied, indicating the building at the top of the hill, and she winced at the climb she still had - and in heels, too.

"Are you sure you're alright?" the man asked, having seen her wince.

Winter was already turning away. "Thanks again, but I'll be fine," she remarked over her shoulder. She hadn't gone two steps when the whine of a blaster powering up made her stop. "I insist," came the reply from the man.

"Slowly," came the warning growl as she made to turn around, her own hands palms-out this time, to see a decidedly unfriendly smile on the man's face and the small hold-out blaster pointed at her, reminding her of her own hold-out blaster, uselessly tucked away in her purse. "I believe that we should be able to give you a night to remember after your earlier disappointment," he remarked.

A ground car appeared out of seemingly nowhere to stop next to her and before she could react, her hands were grabbed and bound, a gag placed in her mouth, sound-suppression muffs were placed over her ears and a bag over her head before she was bundled into the car.

As the car sped off again, the man was already turning and starting down the steps, such that he didn't see the drunk across the road stagger to his feet half a minute later to make his own way up the hill.

* * *

Sapphire - not her real name - wrinkled her nose as a disheveled man slipped into the apartment. "You look like you spent a night in the gutter. And smell like it, too."

"It's called fieldwork," the man responded as he ducked into the 'fresher. "We have a problem," he said over the sound of running water.

"Oh?" Sapphire asked. "Targeter's contact bailed?"

"Worse than that," the man said as he emerged, drying himself off, and Sapphire could see the tense worry lurking just underneath his expression. "Targeter's been captured."

That jolted Sapphire out of her chair. "Really?"

The man nodded. "Really. Happened no less than twenty metres away from me. Three agents involved; they bound and bagged her, shoved her into a ground car and shot off to Sith-knows-where." He paused, absent-mindedly examining the towel whilst deep in thought, before hurling it with all his might at the wall in a burst of rage.

Sapphire partially felt the same way, but more dejection at Targeter's arrest. "Alright, we'll start breaking this down," she responded, indicating the apartment they were in, "and relocate to the other safe house. We'll send off a message via the urgent drop on our way through."

The man immediately moved to a table strewn with equipment and began to organise it for packing. "Do you think it's wise to stay? If they got Targeter, surely we'll be next, right?"

"If you were followed, ISB would be coming through that door right now, so let's pack up ASAP and not press our luck," Sapphire replied as she began to pack as well. "And maybe, with a bit more luck, we can figure out where they took Targeter so we can plan to get her back."


	14. Chapter 14

Apologies to keep you all hanging off a cliff's edge for so long! To be honest, I burnt out a little bit and it took me a while to get back into writing this. However, I haven't given this story up yet - I know where I'm taking this in general terms, even if the detail is a little fuzzy right now. Hope you all enjoy.

* * *

Winter hadn't always had 'perfect' memory - it had only developed just before she was of the age to go to school. Really, she had Leia to thank for it - irony of ironies, Winter couldn't recall what the two of them had been doing - but it was at Leia's insistence, and Leia still wouldn't give her the full details, but she had somehow ended up hitting her head rather hard and had woken up in hospital a month later with white hair, a speech impediment and, as her experience in school had soon proven, the ability to recall mental images with crystal-clear clarity. Years of therapy had allowed her to redevelop her speech and, at the same time, expand her perfect image memory into true eidetic memory, although she would not remember what she did not fully focus on - the ability to glance at something and remember all the details was, unfortunately for unaugmented humans, a myth.

Now, deafened and blinded as she was, she fell back on one of the earlier therapeutic games that she had been taught - to remember the passage of time. In the earliest version of the game she'd been taught, she'd been given an archaic mechanical clock without a readout - but it did vibrate every second as the mechanics tapped against each other, and it was simply a matter of remembering the count. Now, as a spy, she'd had a special watch made that ever-so-faintly pulsed on her wrist every fifteen seconds. So, as she had expanded her focus to the senses she had left - the sense of bulk of the people either side of her in the land-speeder, the texture of their clothing, the small shifts of inertia as they accelerated, decelerated and turned, the vibration of the air-speeder engines that they transferred her to, anything that could help her escape - she remembered exactly when she had felt the tap of her wristwatch, and how many times it occurred.

So when she was dumped onto a couch - that felt like it was upholstered with fine-quality hides, and was in a large room (she knew that because she hadn't been manhandled around obstructions) with a plush carpet underfoot - she also knew that the air-speeder she had been on was most likely a Seinar U-88 model, designed strictly for low-altitude subsonic flight, and that it had been airborne for an hour and ten minutes. From her memory of Tanskrei's location with regards to other localities, that meant she was probably somewhere around the vicinity of Uppsjaal, well-known as the city where a lot of rich and powerful Imperial officers had their holiday houses.

She was in trouble.

Suddenly, the hood was removed and she squinted as the brightly-lit room assaulted her dark-adapted eyes. Someone spoke and the lights dimmed to a more-tolerable level, and she began to look around at the richly-appointed lounge room. Directly in front of her, on the other side of the large room, were a set of floor-to-ceiling windows, with door controls discreetly tucked away to the side.

The sound suppression muffs were removed and the ringing in her ears stopped. "Don't," a man's voice commanded.

"Are you guys capable of speaking with words of more than one syllable?" Winter snarked as her hands automatically went up to rub her sore ears, then stopped as the binders came to the limit of their travel, and she dropped them back into her lap in frustration.

"Very well - don't think about attempting escape through there," the man replied, and light suddenly flooded the area outside the windows to reveal the canopy of a tropical rainforest.

"The previous owner of this property was an avid collector of dangerous plants - the more dangerous, the better. Out there is her garden." Behind her, there was the clinking of glass and the sound of a liquid being poured. "I'm not a gardener, but I have my staff tend to it still, especially as it adds another layer of passive security." And as he said that, the man came into Winter's view.

He was of average height, wearing a general's uniform, one hand tucked behind his back and the other cradling a snifter. He had red-brown hair and beard and deep blue eyes, and for the life of her, Winter couldn't recognise him.

She must have displayed some inkling of her confusion despite her self-control, as a faint smile appeared on the man's lips. "Allow me to introduce myself," he said. "General Crix Madine, at you service."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed as she recognised the name. The general had the good graces to look chastened at her singeing look.

"Nobody regrets what happened on Dentaal more than I do," he began, voice lowered and earnest. "It should not have happened that way."

" _Sithspit,_ " she snarled back at him, and he shut his mouth. They remained like that for a few seconds, gazes locked, whilst her mind whirled with the implications of having been captured by one of the more notorious - if secretive - officers of the Imperial Army. Crix Madine was known to the Alliance as the commanding officer of the Storm Commandos, a group which had seen fit to release the horrific Candorian Plague on Dentaal, eventually killing every inhabitant on that planet.

Madine was the first to break their gaze as he stepped away, turning to face the lit gardens outside the windows. "No doubt you are aware that, up until now, I have not been the most prominent of Imperial officers," he remarked, as if reading her thoughts. "I have preferred to do my work diligently, quietly and without the needless fuss that seems to surround my contemporaries." He paused to take a sip of his drink.

"Recent events, however, have forced me to rethink how I operate," he started again, turning to face Winter and gesturing to her with his glass. "And what better way to start than with the capture of the top Rebel agent, Targeter?" Winter couldn't help but shiver at the coldness of his smile.

"Now, you may think that I am taking a little liberty by handling your capture and interrogation personally, as the Imperial Security Bureau tends to get so upset when others encroach on their turf," Madine started to explain, pacing back and forth in front of the couch, "but I have come to an agreement with the local agents. I assist in your capture and eventually hand you over to them - but only after I have all the information I want."

The general walked behind the couch for a second and Winter heard him picking something up. She tensed in anticipation as he returned, only to relax and feel a bit silly as she saw he'd grabbed a chair for himself. He did as expected, facing her, one foot on the other knee, the hand without the snifter folded over his stomach as he looked at her pensively, swirling his drink absentmindedly. The silence dragged on, and Winter's mind began to drift towards escape plans.

"We know that there's been a drastic change in the Alliance after the battle of Yavin," he suddenly spoke again after half a minute, startling Winter and leaving her with less control over her expressions, and Madine smiled in response to her expression of realisation. "Yes, we have more knowledge about your organisation than you realise. In amongst all the other two-bit would-be revolutionaries flocking to your banner, we especially know that another big group joined the Alliance around the time of that battle, and they have some interesting technology." Winter betrayed no expression, now fully focused on giving nothing away, although her mind picked over his claims. The Battle of Tatooine, where the RHNS _Saint-Nazaire_ had blown up Darth Vader's Star Destroyer, would be enough indication that the Alliance had some firepower behind it, but the general had to be bluffing about any knowledge of technology - especially as the Expedition had taken care to scour the Garrketh system for any debris from the battle with the _Vengeance_.

"Sadly, whatever changes took place seems to have had a detrimental effect on our agents," Madine continued, and a little bubble of joy swelled up in Winter's chest at the confirmation of the treecat's successes in rooting out infiltrators.

"But - we did get some useful information out of our network before it was compromised," Madine said. "I believe you could provide some independent verification of what we did receive." _Not a hope in hell_ , was Winter's mental response.

One corner of Madine's mouth twitched upwards in the beginning of a smile. "Tell me, Targeter," he said, "what do you know about 'Prolong' and 'Regen'?" This time, Winter couldn't hide the shock and worry that appeared on her face, and Madine's smile broadened in response.

* * *

Vice-Admiral Sir Aviars Terekhov frowned as he looked over the data for the star system. Young, with a rocky planet in the midst of being shredded by one of the gas giants, and the only world with a breathable atmosphere going through a global ice-age.

He shook his head almost imperceptibly as he put handed the data pad back. "I think that as place to conduct an ambush operation, the Hoth system has potential," he said. "And certainly the system is rich in resources. But to develop a base of operations on the second planet?" He leaned back in his chair and shook his head again. "I'm not sure if it will be worth the trouble, especially with that climate and the high level of meteorite bombardment."

General Reekian's expression didn't change but Terekhov could still sense the disappointment from him, and Aviars hoped that the Alderaanian general could sense that Terekhov made his recommendation without malice. Fortunately, the General and the Admiral had a good working relationship… which was more than could be said for some of the others filtering into the meeting room.

Terekhov cast wary eyes over some of the others in quiet discussions in other corners of the room, just like he and Reekian were in their corner. "These meeting seem to get more and more crowded as time goes on," he commented softly.

Reekian nodded. "And do you ever get the sense that a few of them aren't really here to fight against the Empire?" he asked semi-rhetorically.

"Airen was showing me some of the data Intelligence had dug up on a few of the newcomers' leaders," Terekhov replied. "Some are no better than local power-hungry warlords." He paused, a hand growing up to stroke his beard thoughtfully. "Sometimes I wonder if the Alliance's 'explosive' growth has a more literal, destructive meaning behind it."

"At least you've got some insulation with the Expedition under your direct command," Reekian commented. "I feel a little more vulnerable to internal politics these days."

"Seriously?" Terekhov asked, surprised. "I'd've thought that few would question your stature as a general from martyred Alderaan."

"This half of the galaxy works a bit differently from where you are, Aviars," Reekian said. "Many beings out on the Rim saw Alderaan as a distant, decadent Core world that knew nothing about the struggles of life on the edge of the galaxy and are rather apathetic at its destruction - they're just glad the Death Star isn't around any more to threaten their systems directly. Despite the Princesses' best efforts in her various humanitarian missions, long-held perceptions like that are difficult to change." He paused for a few seconds, deep in thought, pad tapping absent-mindedly against his other hand, before looking down at it and nodding in weary acceptance. "Very well. But we'll eventually need a place to stop and recover."

"I'm not sure that looking for a planet to set up a permanent base on is the best action at this stage," Terekhov countered. "In fact, I still think we should be pushing hard for the next big strike opportunity, even if only to keep the morale of our own forces high. Everyone knows that Imperial retribution is going to be hard and swift and all of your personnel are tensing for it, adding to whatever personal stress they may be dealing with."

"And what about the rest and repair of our people and equipment?"

"Between the _Restoration_ , the _Star's Joy_ , the _Heroult_ and the _Bessemer_ , I see no issues with maintenance of equipment," Terekhov replied. "With regards to people - it seems to me, at least, that many of the current Alliance personnel are experienced spacers, right?" Reekian nodded din the affirmative. "So are all of the Expedition personnel and - in another boon - many of our new recruits," Terekhov continued. "The recuperation hydroponic spaces on the _Restoration_ and the _Star's Joy_ are being well-patronised and our medical staff aren't reporting cases of space fever. The first tranche of Mon Calamari Star Cruisers are working up nicely with the task force we sent out to Kuat. So, despite our setback there, I don't believe going to ground - literally - is our best option," the admiral concluded.

"That was some good thinking by Oversteegen at Kuat, ordering that extra reconnaissance. How's the _Warspite_?" Reekian asked Terekhov. The admiral knew that Reekian wasn't changing the subject to remove some of the heat from himself, but they - and the crew of the _Warspite_ \- had given them all a scare.

"Repairs are almost finished; she'll be back in commission by the end of the week," the admiral replied, folding his arms across his chest. "Captain Dushku got lucky, escaping with the minor damage she sustained."

"You could say the Force was with her," Reekian commented wryly, a slight smile creasing his lips, and Terekhov chuckled despite himself. "How is Lieutenant Tsang?"

"She's alright for the time being," Terekhov responded, "but I've asked her to refrain from using her new-found powers until we can get someone back from Dagobah to provide some guidance, or send her there." He rubbed his face with a hand. "I've asked the treecats to begin a quiet sweep of our crew to pick out any other potentials lurking, using Ensign Tshepo and Lieutenant Tsang as templates. It's a positive outcome, but Kanan's warning still sticks in my mind."

Reekian nodded again, before glancing briefly at the rest of the room and its occupants again. "I agree we need another decisive strike against the Empire - and soon," he stated.

"Absolutely," Terekhov replied. "Kuat proves that we can't count on their ignorance of our technology for too long, and there's got to be at least one smart commander in the Imperial military."

A soft chime sounded, and the two commanders turned and made their way to their seats at the table, along with the rest of the people in the room. "Let us hope," Reekian commented, "that we can mount our decisive strike before they find their smart commander."

Both of them were startled as a man put a folder bursting with flimsis on the table next to them. "Airen?" Reekian asked the unusually-flustered intelligence chief. "What's wrong?"

General Cracken looked at them both with a worried expression, but before he could answer, Mon Mothma and Bail Organa entered to take their seats at the desk situated in the middle of the 'U'-shaped table. "Gentle beings, thank you for attending," the Alliance leader announced. "There is an urgent item to add to the agenda today, which we will attend to immediately. General Cracken?"

"Thank you, ma'am," Cracken replied, beginning to hand out the flimsis he'd brought along. "Of course, much of what we discuss at these meetings is secret, but this information is even more sensitive," he warned. "Approximately one standard week ago, one of our agents went to the Kaal System to investigate and make contact with a purported rebel group in that system. This morning, we received an urgent message from her backup agents that she had been captured by Imperial forces in that system."

The tension around the table thickened. "General Cracken, who was the agent captured?" someone asked.

Cracken paused for a second - "Targeter," he said.

There was a collective hiss throughout the room as realisation sank in. Targeter - Winter Retrac - confidant of Leia Organa and the woman with the infallible memory. _No wonder Bail looks so ashen_ , Terekhov thought.

"I believe the need for urgency and extra secrecy is understood by everyone in this room," Mon announced in her understated way. "Admirals Ackbar and Terekhov, I'd like you to join with General Cracken in planning the extraction of our agent, immediately after this meeting." Terekhov nodded and as the meeting turned back to other items, he used his datapad to send a quick message to Admiral Zachary, asking her to jump-start the planning - although, he mused, they would likely end up with a plan involving some of the big battleships the Havenites has insisted on bringing along.

Message sent, he refocused on the meeting, but found himself distracted from time to time by surreptitious glances from one of the other attendees across the room - the Bothan, Borsk, if he remembered correctly. Understanding non-human body language was still a bit tricky for him, but he was sure that despite the bad news regarding Targeter, the Bothan was looking rather pleased.


	15. Chapter 15

By the time Tycho Celchu had finished the walkaround and stepped back into the small shuttle, Wedge Antilles was already ensconced in the left-hand seat completing the rest of the pre-flights. "All good?" the captain asked as Tycho sealed the hatch.

"All secure," the lieutenant responded as he took the right hand seat. "Pre-power checklist?"

"Fuel pressure indicators green," Wedge announced.

"Indicators green," Tycho confirmed.

"APU power feed indicating green."

"APU power green."

"Primary and backup igniters armed."

"Primary and backup igniters are armed," Tycho responded, flicking the required switches to their appropriate positions.

"Pre-power checklist is complete," Wedge stated. "Ready for main reactor startup."

"Starting main reactor," Tycho announced, pressing and holding the main reactor startup switch whilst both pilots monitored the telltales. As the key indicators moved into the right zones, Tycho nodded in satisfaction and released the switch. "Main reactor available," he announced, then flicked on the rear view screen, looked at what it displayed, then looked out of his viewport. "Clear right."

"Clear left," Wedge responded as he did the same. "Mind if I fly?"

Wedge watched Tycho out of the corner of his eye as he pointed the shuttle away from the small Alliance fleet in orbit around Nema as they exited the bay. Outwardly, Tycho seemed not to respond at all, but Wedge recognised the slight signs of puzzlement on the face of the Alderaanian.

"Queries, Lieutenant?" Wedge asked, deciding to put Tycho on the spot.

"No sir," the young man responded, eyes snapping forward.

Wedge chuckled slightly - Imperial habits were hard to shake, it seemed. "Relax, Tycho," he reassured, "as a general rule, the Alliance doesn't space its best pilots for asking questions."

Tycho's chagrined look changed from caught-being-too-curious to caught-being-too-Imperial and Wedge mentally winced - it hadn't been his intent to knock Tycho like that.

"Not that I don't mind the lack of questions, Lieutenant," Wedge continued in what he hoped was a soothing tone. "I certainly had a lot of them from my previous wingmate, Luke. Poor kid was brought up on a moisture farm on a planet way out on the Rim that he'd never been off - everything was new to him!" He finished with a chuckle as he remembered the Tatooine native's incessant thirst for knowledge when he first joined the squadron.

Tycho smiled briefly before frowning again in thought. "Luke… he went off with the Princess to start Jedi training, didn't he?" he asked.

Only Wedge's self-control when piloting prevented him from inadvertently wrenching the shuttle off-course. _Talk about taking advantage of opportunity_ , he thought; outwardly, he attempted to maintain the most neutral expression he could as he asked, "Where did you hear that, Tycho?"

His copilot shrugged. "No-one told me explicitly - I just pieced it together -"

"- From stuff you overheard," Wedge completed for him. "You know, when you first approached the Alliance, there were suggestions that you should work for General Cracken in Intelligence."

"What?" Tycho's head snapped around in surprise. "I can't see myself doing anything like that at all - I like flying too much."

"Are you sure? You seem to have a knack for it," Wedge pointed out. Tycho's response was a slow shake of his head as he went back to looking out of the viewscreen.

Wedge stifled a sigh before deciding on a more direct approach. "All right, Lieutenant," he commanded, "tell me why we're headed out to the second moon."

Tycho blinked at his captain's suddenly authoritative tone. Briefly he considered querying the order but a quick glance at the other man's stern look convinced him that Wedge wasn't fooling around. Sighing in resignation, he responded, "We're on our way to a briefing about a top-secret, vitally important mission."

Wedge finally let out the sigh he'd been holding in. "Nice try, Lieutenant, but I'll clarify my request. The briefing is going to involve more than the two of us, so why are we headed in this direction than, say, to the _Restoration_? What could be out here?"

Tycho was silent at first but Wedge could see the muscles in his jaw working as he thought. Finally he responded, carefully.

"There's…rumours…of a fleet out here, much larger than the current Alliance fleet. Some call it the Ghost Fleet, or the Shadow Fleet, or the Secret Fleet. Others, I've noticed - and often those who are a bit higher up, or have been in the Alliance longer - have begun calling it the Guardian Fleet."

"Guardian Fleet?"

"Yes sir," Tycho affirmed. "I believe that what they're hinting at is that this fleet, amongst other things, is doing the bulk of outer-system patrolling, supplementing our snub-fighter CSPs with more heavily armed ships, and I've heard that if we get attacked, they'd be covering our retreat."

"And have you heard any information about why this Guardian Fleet is all the way out here?"

Tycho paused and considered carefully what he had heard about the so-called Guardian Fleet. Some of the rumours that he had caught wind of were, frankly, rather fantastic.

"I've heard that they've got some interesting technology," he eventually answered. "Nothing specific though - some rumours around their tech refer to long-range weapons, some discuss near-impenetrable shields, and I even heard amazing things with regard to medical technology. Obviously they're separated from the main fleet to reduce the ability for spies to gather concrete information."

"Hm-hm," Wedge responded, nodding slowly. "And what are your thoughts about the truth behind those rumours?"

Tycho laughed a bit in response. "How long is a piece of string, sir? Any rumour has got to have a bit of truth behind it, bit the nature of rumours is that the kernel of truth gets twisted into something unrecognisable with every retelling. Some of what I heard is so fantastical, sir, that much of it seems to be a 'feel-good story' made up to keep morale high."

"So you don't believe there's a fleet somewhere out here?"

"I believe that there may be something like a few old Dreadnoughts that are being worked on in secret, so that the Empire doesn't get wind of our true strength. But a three-hundred-plus fleet, with twenty Star Destroyer analogues?" Tycho shook his head with a half-smile. "Call me a skeptic, sir, but extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence."

"Very good Lieutenant," Wedge said. "Also, I've got no qualms with your position on rumours and evidence. However…" He reached to the centre console and adjusted the settings on the traffic plot screen slightly until he had what he wanted - the position of a ship labeled the _Trenchant_ , a thousand kilometres to starboard.

"That there is a light cruiser from…uh… _Guardian Fleet_ heading out on her patrol," Wedge explained, "If she's following standard procedure, she'll be using reaction thrusters right now, but you should be able to see her out of the viewport when her drives activate."

Tycho fiddled with the shuttle sensors' optical feed on his console viewscreen - he quickly glanced out of his viewport whilst adjusting the screen but even an ISD would be hard to distinguish at 1000km with the unaided eye. The image on the screen finally resolved into a long, cylindrical shape that tapered down at the bow and stern before flaring again to a bulbous projection at either end. Oddly, Tycho couldn't make out drive nozzles, although the infrared filter showed the remains of a plume of hot gas that had been streaming out of one end of the ship, plus two brightly-glowing bands where the hull tapers joined the bulbous ends.

A sharp chime from the console distracted him briefly - it was the gravity anomaly warning from the navicomp, letting them know that it had determined certain vectors were unsuitable for hyperspace due to unusual gravitational features along them. As he reached out to reset the warning, he caught a brief look at the unsuitable vectors -

"What?" Tycho murmured.

"Everything OK?" Wedge asked, glancing at Tycho.

"I'm not sure…something with the navicomp - Oh," Tycho realised what his exclamation sounded like as he saw Wedge scanning the controls. "Nothing wrong with anything we need to complete the flight right now; it's just the navicomp is throwing up an odd warning." Wedge nodded in response and turned his attention back to flying the shuttle, letting the pilot monitoring deal with the minor equipment issue. Besides, he knew why the alert had sounded, and he watched Tycho's back-and-forth out of the corner of his eye as the lieutenant pieced the evidence together. By the time Tycho leaned back in realisation, the _Trenchant_ 's wedge was visible to the unaided eye through the viewport, a faint dull red like molten salt.

"Gravity drive?" Tycho said, looking at Wedge in not-quite-disbelief. Wedge nodded in the affirmative and Tycho blew out a breath, eyebrows flickering up and down.

"It does send your head for a spin when you first realise it, doesn't it?" Wedge said and Tycho nodded, one hand to his head as if trying to hold it together. "Well, you'd better brace yourself, because these people have a lot more to surprise you with," Wedge continued, as he pointed the shuttle towards the myriad of ships just now becoming visible around the limb of Nema's second moon.

Tycho considered the next twenty minutes a poor reflection on his usually impeccable professionalism, as he was too busy taking in all the sights of the alien fleet to really do his job as pilot monitoring; at least Wedge looked like he had taken Tycho's distraction into account when planning his approach. He deftly guided their shuttle past ships of every size, from those as large as corvettes to others nearing Imperial-class Star Destroyer length, all with the same bulbous-ended-cylinder shape and all sporting the same dark-grey colour. Despite their sameness, Tycho quickly noted differences in designs and markings and realised that the homogenous-looking fleet was actually two separate groups combined.

Their shuttle swooped up and over the hull of a Corellian corvette-sized vessel, giving Tycho a glimpse of four even-larger ships in the distance, before diving down again and steadying on a course for a ship about the same size as a Victory-class Star Destroyer, with a subtle green, gold and silver flash on its bow. Wedge leaned forward and fiddled with the comm settings slightly before clicking on the microphone.

" _Noctis Labyrinthus_ , this is Alliance shuttle _Yavin IV_ -Byss, on approach. Yes, I do know _englisch_ …"

Tycho tore his gaze away from the approaching ship to look at Wedge in puzzlement. _What in the stars is 'englisch'?_

Whatever it was, Wedge was now speaking it with a smile on his face, before laughing and switching back to Basic. "Very well, _Noctis_ control. Flying one-eight-zero mark two-seven relative, _Yavin IV_ -Byss."

They flew along the flank of the _Noctis Labyrinthus_ , Tycho counting weapons hatches as they went, before _Noctis_ control directed them to turn in as brightly-lit bays became visible under the ventral flank. Deftly, Wedge guided them up into the bay as Tycho examined the grapples, tubes and other docked craft, carefully noting the absence of a glowing edge that signified an atmospheric containment field.

As usual, Wedge's docking was millimetre-perfect. They quickly went through the shutdown checklist and as Wedge secured the last few items, Tycho was up and out of his seat, checking the rear hatch telltales as the thump of a transfer tube echoed through the hull. As the telltales flicked to green, he soon had the hatch open and -

" _Kriffing hell!_ " Wedge's head jerked back at the exclamation and he looked over his shoulder to see what the trouble was, before doubling over in laughter. Behind him, Tycho's limbs windmilled as he attempted to right himself in the zero-gee environment of the transfer tube.

Wedge had managed to get himself out of his seat and over to the hatch by the time Tycho got a hold of a handrail, although he was still chuckling. "Sorry, Tycho, I should've warned you - some things these people do are just…different."

"Sithspit," Tycho grumbled. "Who the hell leaves a transfer tube in zero-gee? Is there really not enough space to install grav generators?"

"In this case, yes," Wedge remarked as he launched himself into the tube. "There's a few things our side of the galaxy excels at, and one of them is miniaturisation."

The two of them quickly swam to the other end of the tube, gracefully dropping to their feet in front of a very short man with a very young face - a boy, really. "Captain Wedge Antilles and Lieutenant Tycho Celchu of Rogue Flight, requesting permission to come aboard," Wedge said, holding out his ID card as he did so, Tycho copying his movements. The small man took them, tapped something on his datapad, made a comparison with the ID cards, then nodded to himself, handed the cards back and gave Tycho and Wedge a salute.

"Permission to come aboard granted. Welcome aboard the Republic of Haven battleship _Noctis Labyrinthus_ , sirs," the man replied in accented Basic as the two pilots returned his salute. "Ensign Mulkich will escort you to your destination," he continued, beckoning to someone behind him, and another, even younger boy stepped out in front of them, kitted out in the same grey-and-green uniform. The older boy - whatever his name was, because Tycho couldn't read the language of his nameplate - turned to the younger boy and said something unintelligible to Tycho's ears, although it seemed Wedge caught the gist of what they were saying. The ensign saluted and turned to face Wedge and Tycho. "This way please, sirs," he said in even more distorted Basic.

Wedge and Tycho followed the ensign as he led them down a corridor looking over the boat bay, and Tycho's attention was torn between the sleek craft in their mooring clamps, the variety of humans hustling to and fro, and the big, armoured troopers scattered along the corridor. Tycho noticed that one of the troopers ahead seemed to have some sort of pelt of his shoulders, only for the 'pelt' to raise its head and look at the visitors as they walked past. The animal's intelligent eyes met Tycho's as he slowed down for a better look and for a moment, he felt like the creature was looking right into his soul.

"Tycho?" a voice called from his left hand side. He turned in the direction it had come from, saw Wedge and Mulkich looking at him from down the corridor and realised that he'd come to a halt in front of the animal-carrying trooper. The six-limbed, cat-faced animal itself was moving its front paws in a complicated fashion, to which the man was paying close attention to…

 _Sign language_. The realisation came to Tycho as he turned away from the trooper and made his way to his waiting compatriots. He didn't see the trooper nodding and smiling as the treecat finished his hand signs with a thumbs-up, but Wedge did and internally relaxed.

Mulkich led them deeper into the ship, through corridors thronged with all sorts of humans, a fair number of them children - at least they looked that way to Tycho. Two people in a group in particular called out to Mulkich as they passed, beaming smiles all around, and Mulkich flashed a smile just as broad back at the group as he passed.

"Friends of yours?" Tycho asked as they waited for a lift.

"Previous classmates," Mulkich responded, "saying 'Happy Birthday'."

"Congratulations," Tycho asked. "May I ask how old?"

"I'm twenty-four this year," Mulkich replied as he and Wedge entered the lift, then held it for a stunned Tycho who was still outside.

"Twenty-four?" he repeated incredulously. "You don't look a day over thirteen."

Mulkich gave him a wry smile. "Step in and I'll tell you our secret."

"Where we're from, we have some age-slowing treatments everyone knows as 'Prolong'," he explained once Tycho had stepped into the lift and they got going. "The newest version of it has to be given just after puberty, so it really slows down our ageing from that point onwards. I'll be thirty-five before I reach 'normal' adult size."

"'Prolong'," Tycho repeated. "I've heard of some extremely wealthy humans who seem to have something similar, plus there's any number of non-human species who live for much longer - Wookiees, for example."

"It could be that those humans are receiving something like our Prolong," Mulkich said. "It's really basic human genetics after all, it's just that where we're from, we can give it to any human below a certain age." Tycho looked a bit puzzled at this, until Wedge clarified. "What Mulkich is saying is that Prolong is available to the general population through their public health systems."

Tycho scrubbed a hand up and down his face as they exited the lift, struggling to absorb this. "Just where have you lot come from anyways?" he asked, thinking that he should ask hopefully-simple questions first.

"As far as we can figure out, somewhere deep in the unknown regions," Wedge replied for Mulkich. "The two participants in this 'Expedition', as it's known - the other group are the Star Empire of Manticore - were, until recently, fighting each other for over twenty years, until a combination of exhaustion and new intelligence caused them to forge an alliance and take on the Empire of their region, that was in fact being manipulated by a shadowy cabal." Wedge paused briefly to allow Tycho to digest the new information before continuing. "The Expedition was formed to chase down a breakaway fleet from this cabal, who'd discovered some means of travelling across the galaxy very quickly - the Expedition are still cagey on exactly what this method is. Anyways, the Expedition used the same means, found themselves in deep space, did some reconnaissance and headed for the nearest inhabited system - which turned out to be Alderaan."

Tycho's gaze unfocused slightly as he recalled watching his family attempting to get off-planet as quickly as they could and the anguish he felt at his inability to help them at all. "The fleet arrived just hours before the Death Star turned up," Wedge continued. "From what I've heard, there was an initial meeting going on between the Viceroy and the Expedition leaders when the fleet detected the Death Star dropping out of hyperspace. Their ability to give Bail that information so quickly allowed him to declare the planetary evacuation whilst there was still some time."

Mentally, Tycho replayed the instant the HoloNet call to his family had dropped. His father had said that he'd be disconnecting soon, but had been in the middle of telling Tycho where they were headed when he got cut off and Tycho hadn't caught the destination. He'd spent the first two weeks since deserting the Empire making enquiries about his family at their usual holiday destinations, but without success.

"Tycho." Wedge's soothing voice and hand on his shoulder brought him back to the here-and-now. "I'm pretty sure, if you family is anything like you are, that they got away from Alderaan safely and that they're currently in hiding, and they're not willing to risk the safety of their son in Imperial service - no, you're not now, but I doubt they know that - by attempting to contact them." Wedge gave the younger man's shoulder a squeeze. "They'll turn up, eventually. I'm sure of it."

Tycho managed a weak smile in Wedge's direction as he drove his fears back down into the depths of his mind. They rounded a corner then stopped as Ensign Mulkich indicated the hatch a few metres away.

"Briefing Room Two, sirs," he announced. "Please wait after the briefing is finished and I'll be along to guide you back to the Boat Bay."

"Many thanks," Wedge replied, acknowledging the ensign's salute, before turning his attention to the scowling man leaning against the hatch jamb. "Han, you pirate! What are you doing here?"

"That's _privateer_ to you," Han Solo retorted, "and I'm here for a secret mission - the same as you, I imagine." He airily waved to let Wedge and Tycho in ahead of him, but walked through first at Wedge's insistence.

"Privateer?" Tycho asked as the three of them climbed the briefing room's stairs. Looking around, about a quarter of the seats were full already, mostly a combination of green-and-grey Republic of Haven uniforms and others in black-and-gold - must be from Manticore, Tycho surmised - but here and there were a few Alliance uniforms, mostly non-humans.

"It means I'm an offical Expedition pirate," Han answered as the three of them picked some seats in an unoccupied row. "Or Alderaanian, or Alliance. I'm not quite sure about that bit, but pretty much I know I've got the authority to do what I want against the Empire, just so long as I don't do the same to the Alliance. This Letter of Marque and Reprisal," he continued, waving a datachip in his hand, "says that I also get to use Alliance maintenance facilities to keep the _Falcon_ fighting-fit, but I can be requested to assist in an Alliance venture if I'm not currently occupied."

"Huh," Tycho murmured. "And they've requested you for this 'venture'?" Han gave an exaggerated nod in reply. "Must be some venture."

"Oh yes," Han all but snarled. "Turns out that they need the _Falcon_ 'specially-modified for whatever it is they're doing and -"

"Han!" a woman's voice interrupted him and the three men turned to see a blue-eyed, dark haired woman in green-and-grey making her way up to their row. "I thought you'd be in the CPO's office right now."

"Or in the brig?"

"You said it, not me," she responded as she took a seat directly behind the trio. "And you gentlemen are?"

"My apologies," Han said. "Amanda, this is Wedge Antilles… sorry, I'm not all over your current rank -"

"That's alright," Wedge said. "I'm a Captain, the commanding officer of Rogue Flight, and this is Lieutenant Tycho Celchu, also of Rogue Flight."

"Captain Amanda Loup of the Havenite Navy assault cruiser _Saint-Nazaire_ ," she responded, taking both men's hands in turn. "You're the 2IC of Rogue Flight?" she asked Tycho.

"Not at all," Tycho responded, "That'd be Lieutenant Wrongar, who's currently preoccupied, so the Captain brought me instead."

"Not quite, Tycho," Wedge said. "Sorry to spring this on you now, Tycho, but Wrongar's indicated that she doesn't want to be 2IC any more. Given you've just passed your final security check with flying colours, I'd like you to take her spot."

Tycho blinked at the pronouncement; given all the day's previous surprises, he found himself less surprised by this than he should've been. "But Wrongar's just as good a pilot as I am -"

"She certainly is," Wedge said, "but it takes a special being to stay on top of all the day-to-day mess of running the flight _and_ be a good pilot. Wrongar always knew she wasn't cut out for the role - she's never actively sought it - she's just been holding the fort for a while for me. I feel that you're a better fit for 2IC - if you feel you're up to it, of course."

There was a brief pause as Tycho digested it all - particularly wondering about the security check - before taking Wedge's outstretched hand. "Congratulations, Lieutenant; I'm sure we'll work very well together."

"Thank you," Tycho replied, beaming, before shaking the hands of Captain Loup and Han in turn. "So why should you be in a 'CPO's office' right now?" Tycho asked Han as he let go. "And why does a protocol droid have an office?"

"That's 'Chief Petty Officer'," Loup replied wryly, "and the CPO concerned is in charge of small-craft maintenance, which now includes the _Millennium Falcon_. I thought you'd be happy to have some help maintaining her, Han."

"Not when they think they know the ship better than I do," Han grumbled, "and I'm not letting anyone gut her firepower for anything, no matter how important or whiz-bang the equipment they're installing is." He inadvertently caught the eye of a dark-skinned, broad-nosed woman in black-and-gold sitting in the row in front, who turned away from the force of Han's glare. "Sorry," he said, reaching a hand out in apology. "I'm not angry at you in particular. Captain Han Solo of the _Millennium Falcon_."

"Captain Joanna Dushku of the HMS _Warspite_. Sorry for eavesdropping."

"Nonsense, it's not like I was trying to be quiet," Han responded, whilst Wedge cocked his head. " _Warspite_? That's the ship that got jumped by six Star Destroyers at Kuat, right?" he asked.

"Yes, that's the one," Captain Dushku responded with a slight sigh, and Tycho's ears pricked up. The information he'd stolen during his defection had placed the docked _Executor_ at Kuat…

"Nothing to be ashamed about, Captain; I'm just impressed that you got away unscathed," Wedge said.

"Especially as _Warspite_ 's just a heavy cruiser, right?" Loup asked.

Dushku smiled wryly. "As always, I succeeded due to the talents of my crew." She focused on Han again. "Captain Solo, I wasn't aware that you and the _Millennium Falcon_ had formally joined the Alliance."

"I haven't," Han said, squirming slightly. "The Admiral gave me a Letter of Marque." Dushku's eyebrows rose.

"A privateer! Well, well; I wonder what they'll be asking you to do on this mission."

"Looks like we're about to find out," Tycho interjected, as a number of beings entered and began to file across the dais at the front of the room. A person at the front snapped to attention with a shout and everyone else in the room copied her as a woman with lots of gold braid on her uniform entered the room. "As you were," she called out as she crossed the dais to the lectern.

"I'm Admiral Kedzierski, for those of you who are unaware," she announced as she set up her data pad. "The 2IC of the Havenite contingent," Loup whispered to the trio of non-Expedition men.

"The mission which you will be briefed on today is for the extraction of a high-value Alliance intelligence asset, who is currently in Imperial custody deep within their territory," Kedzierski began her introduction. "We will be attacking a system with the largest Imperial presence since the assault on Scarif, and we need every capable and flexible asset we can get our hands on, including those which are unconventional." She indicated with her hand, not Han Solo, but rather a threesome that included a female Twi'lek and a male Lasat, sitting closer to the front.

She looked around the room at the assembled beings briefly, before waving a hand at one of the beings with her. "Captain Lokma," she said, introducing the Mon Calamari, who stepped up to the lectern.

"Thank you, Admiral," he said as he activated the holo to display a galactic map. "Our target for this mission will be the resort world of Kaal," he began, and the holomap obligingly zoomed in. "The Kaal System is in the Yushan sector, deep within the Mid-Rim, and despite its status as a resort world, it has a strong Imperial presence and is heavily defended. On Kaal itself, we last had contact with our agent here, in the city of Tanskrei…"


	16. Chapter 16

Just letting all readers know that Chapter 2 has been revised slightly and I've also revised the beginning of Chapter 3 in light of _Rogue One._ There are slight spoilers for _Rogue One_ in this chapter.

* * *

The meal today, Winter saw as she was seated, was Mynock Coronet City, a Twi'lek specialty. Despite the disdain the Empire in general seemed to have for non-humans, Crix Madine certainly didn't mind non-human cuisine.

He ate in silence for a while after her appearance, concentrating on his food with no acknowledgement of her existence. Once again, she looked out over Madine's dangerous garden. She'd catalogued the various plant species during their lunches over the past two weeks, which had only served to prove Madine right - even if she survived the fall off the balcony with no broken limbs, she'd be dead within the hour from the nasty plants growing down there. Still, she looked out to see if there was a change, even a slight one…

"My head gardener happened upon a trader with an interesting cargo the other day," Madine said, startling Winter out of her inspection of the garden. "It seems that he got his hands on a _Ginpyy_ plant. Have you heard of them?"

She didn't answer. As always during these mealtime interrogations, she tried to keep silent as long as possible; always, Madine found some way of goading her into speaking. She hadn't yet said anything that would compromise the Alliance, but the best way to keep a secret was to not speak, and so she felt like a failure every time she rose to his bait. And they both knew it.

He shrugged. "Maybe you haven't. They're extremely rare; confined to a coastal strip of one particular continent on a world on the edge of Unknown Space. But, oh, it makes a fine specimen for our collection."

He leant closer to her, voice lowered as if confiding in a secret. "They're incredibly toxic; their leaves are coated in these fine, needle-like hairs which holds their poison. But unlike many of the other plants in my garden, they don't kill…directly. What the poison does in humans and humanoids, though, is deliver _incredible_ pain, _indescribable_ pain, that resists any and all attempts at treatment. Even bacta cannot remove all the pain. Many of those who have had the misfortune to come in contact with the _Ginpyy_ plant have died, eventually - suicides, each and every one of them."

He leaned back again, smiling. "It's a perfect addition to this garden - we'll get some more to ring the perimeter, I think. Thus, if someone like yourself got past all the other species, you would have to contend with the _Ginpyy_ , probably get stung, eventually commit suicide and that would ultimately remove your effectiveness to the Rebellion. Marvellous, isn't it?"

For the first time in their series of lunches, Winter smiled back at the general. She knew that he'd goaded her to speak again, but she couldn't let this opportunity go by.

"I can't think of a better plant to describe the Empire - something which causes suffering to all who come into contact with it. And that makes the Alliance the weedkillers."

Madine's face fell into a sour expression at her jab and he turned his attention back to his meal. For about half a minute, there was silence between them, with Winter schooling her face into a blank look and Madine refusing to look at her.

"I wonder," Madine began as he examined the light reflecting in his drink, "how effective something like 'regen' would be against a _Ginpyy_ plant sting." He faced Winter, an eyebrow raised in question.

Once more, Winter kept her face blank and her mouth shut, even though she didn't know the answer herself. In the back of her mind she wondered, yet again, why Madine was so interested in the medical technology of the Expedition.

"Maybe the best way to find that answer out is to sting you then hand you back to the Rebellion," he mulled, "then have you recaptured after you're hale and hearty again and see just what 'regen' did to you."

She couldn't help herself; her squirming was an instinctive reaction to the threat of pain, and a broad, gloating smile spread across Madine's face. "Well, if you're disinclined to take that path of action…you could just tell me everything you know about Regen."

"So you can figure out how to defeat it, disable it somehow…"

"Not at all," Madine replied, eyes wide. "Merely professional curiosity; perhaps, even, the potential of an altruistic application." He reached for his data pad lying on the table.

"Somehow, I doubt that the Scourge of Dentaal would be interested in a altruistic application of anything," Winter shot back. The only response from the general, focused as he was on his data pad, was a slight tightening of his jaw muscles. He tapped the pad, then once more, then looked up at Winter.

"Have you heard of the Death Troopers?" he asked her, and she shook her head after a moment. "My estimation of Rebel Intelligence has just been diminished," Madine continued, before turning his pad around to show an image of a black-armoured trooper with an elongated helmet snout. These she had seen, although not in person, and she nodded to Madine.

"Or maybe not. I'm guessing that the troopers the Rebellion knows most about were attached to the late, lamented Director Orson Krennic - you blew up his life's work, the Death Star - they were the 'prototypes', as it were, and they performed _exceptionally._ It's just a pity that after a decade of service, they were lost on Scarif."

He put the pad down again and folded his hands into his lap. "Now, the Death Trooper project started out of a desire to assist first Clone Troopers, then Storm Troopers with traumatic limb injuries. I shouldn't need to go into detail about cybernetic prostheses but up until now, any prostheses simply replaced the lost functionality. The conceptual leap from _replacement_ to _improvement_ of functionality is not a large one."

Winter found it impossible to keep her horror from showing on her face as Madine continued. "Sadly, we came up against constraints that was impossible to surmount during the project, so we never reached the potential that were promised. What we _were_ able to do, however, was push back the frontiers of human medical knowledge further than we ever believed we were able to do…so much so, that we were seeing inklings of this 'regenerative' tissue replacement your new friends appear to have achieved. Hence my interest when our sources in the Rebellion began reporting about Regen." He shrugged his shoulders with an innocent smile.

"I'm just glad," Winter said once she got her nausea under control, "that your project failed. Miserably."

"The Emperor has many irons in the fire," Madine responded curtly. "You've destroyed the Death Star, but there are other ways to bring rebellious systems to heel. My Death Troopers may be limited to the protection of high-ranking officials, but…"

He got up and dragged his chair around to Winter's, so he could whisper in her ear. "But," he continued, grabbing Winter's head so she couldn't lean away, "just imagine, for a moment. Just imagine, a sector fleet appears above a traitorous world and amongst the Star Destroyers is an unfamiliar ship that no-one has seen before. Just imagine, the drop-ships falling and disgorging… _Dark Troopers_ , droids who are precise and efficient, who cannot be broken or pleaded with, who will not stop until they have achieved their objective."

Winter struggled again, but Madine tightened his grip. "And just imagine," he hissed, "that your Rebellion attempts to isolate and block command and control signals…but you can't, because Dark Troopers are fully autonomous. And just imagine, that you and your spies attempt to locate and destroy our manufacturing facility…but you can't, because it is _mobile._ And just imagine how well your rebellion will stand up to the likes of _this!_ " And he released her with an angry flick of his hand.

Winter remained for a moment with her head bowed and her eyes screwed shut until she got her breathing under control. Only then did she look up at the Imperial General with a rebellious glare, maintaining it for as long as she could whilst his guards grabbed her to take he back down to her cell. Madine, meanwhile, stared back with a slight curl of his lip, responding to her wordless proclamation of _you'll never win_ with his own _just wait and see_.

Back in her cell, Winter reflected on the surreal experience of her captivity so far. Today had been the most intense conversation she'd had with the general over the last ten days; otherwise, she'd been treated much better than she'd ever expected, with Madine's questioning limited to Prolong and Regen.

Then there was the revelation of the Dark Trooper project, something that must be close to deployment for Madine to reveal it to he like he did - or perhaps he was so confident that she wouldn't be escaping that he'd revealed it in an attempt to wear down her resolve. _Well, that won't be happening._

She massaged her forehead with her hands, as if that would somehow help her make sense of it all. So far, she felt like she was in a spy movie, not real life and she couldn't for the life of her figure out the Empire's intent, let alone Madine's…

The next day, she was brought up from her cell to the main room where she'd first met the general, although too early for lunch. He was looking out over the dangerous garden again and he didn't turn at their entrance.

"Remember I told you that I have a deal with local Imperial Security?" he asked. "They have now called in that deal, so I have no choice but to hand you over to their custody. The liberties I am allowed are not as broad as you may have thought."

He turned to face her. "I am going to miss our conversations, Targeter," he said in a wistful tone, as Winter felt two agents grab an arm each. "Think carefully on all that I have said." And with that, she was taken into the tender mercies of Imperial Security.

* * *

Imperial Security were much more direct in their interrogation methods - so much so that when she was being moved to another location a couple of days later, she really had to concentrate against the pain and tiredness she was feeling to memorize the route they were taking on. She was so deep into her trance that when the back door got yanked open, the first inkling she got that things were different was when her guard's heads exploded in a shower of pink. Standing in the door was Garnett with an Expedition-style dart pulser in each hand, and a rifle over his shoulder.

"Come on, Targeter!" he yelled, and threw a pulser at her, snapping her out of her funk. Quickly, she grabbed the pulser and clambered out the back of the transport into a miniature war zone in the middle of an intersection.

Two other transports, one in front, one behind, were crumpled and burning. Pulser-shredded Stormtroopers lay everywhere, and she saw one of the other transports had clearly been hit by an impeller-based weapon (as in, the top half had been sliced cleanly off).

Her inspection was interrupted by an animal yell, and she turned to see a silver-streaked Wookiee gesticulating at her with a heavy tribarrel as if it was a small blaster pistol.

"Opal's right - we've got to get moving!" As if to underscore Garnett's point, more Stormtroopers appeared on top of the buildings above the intersection and began firing. Quickly finding cover, Winter and Garnett fired back and the troopers retreated after a couple of their number fell, rent apart as the explosive-tipped darts found their mark. Garnett grabbed Winter's hand and led her through the intersection to one of the undamaged vehicles, but before they could get in, an AT-ST walker rounded the corner at the next intersection ahead.

Opal was quick off the mark with her tribarrel though and riddled the walker's head before it could get any shots off. Garnett quickly shoved Winter into the transport, fired a few more rounds to keep the Imperial's heads down as Opal climbed in then jumped in himself, the transport accelerating away before the door was shut.

Winter took a moment to look around the interior. Besides Garnett, and Opal with her tribarrel, there was another human male with a shoulder-mounted missile launcher and a Lasat with a plasma carbine.

Her musings on the arsenal being toted were interrupted by the whine of speeders. "Opal! Get rid of them!" Sapphire yelled from the driver's position.

The Wookiee opened the side door and hung out of it, wielding the tribarrel single-handedly but to disastrous effect on the speeders. Her yell of triumph, however, was cut short by the terrifying howl of TIE fighters as two of them shot overhead and began to loop around.

"Who _are_ you?" the man with the missile launcher muttered as he began to make his way to the rear door, Winter following, as the first shots of laser fire began to bracket them.

The transport was swerving from side to side, which was having the intended effect of presenting a difficult target to the fighters, but it would also make it difficult to provide a target to the launcher. "Sapphire! Could you steady up for a second?"

"A second for Emerald? Yeah, I think I can do that!" Sapphire responded.

Winter shot an incredulous look at the human with the launcher, who shrugged back before Winter turned her attention back to the two TIE fighters above, a hand resting ready on the emergency door release. She would have to be sure and quick...

The transport straightened out and so did the fighter. Winter hit the door release just as the fighter began firing again, lasers tearing up the pavement behind them as the launcher let out a warning beep before the _tchunk_ of a launching missile filled the cabin.

The launch was almost too low; the missile's gravity wedge caught an edge on the pavement as it snapped into being, which caused the missile to just miss below the lead fighter but impact squarely on the trailing fighter. Without pause, the Lasat was out the door and swinging onto the transport roof with his carbine even before the missile reached its mark, and the remaining fighter disappeared in a ball of plasma fire soon after.

Their trip afterwards was winding, and over sooner than expected, but it turned out that after a quick trip through some tunnels, they were just changing vehicles and once they were on their way again, Winter began to relax a bit.

"Thank you all very much for rescuing me," she said to the group, deciding to leave her criticism of the _noisiness_ of it all for later. "Who are you?"

"This here is Dane," Garrett began, indicating the burly, bearded human with the missile launcher before turning to the Wookiee. "Next we have Mogharra," he continued, "And finally, this is Burralis." The Lasat acknowledged the introduction with a nod of his head. "They're the only proper Rebel cell on Kaal."

"Wait a minute," Winter interjected. "Dane? As in 'Dane's Intrepid Trekkers?'"

Dane shrugged. "We can't very well call ourselves 'The Rebels of Kaal', can we? According to Imperial records for registered groups, we're a bunch of people that likes to go trekking into the wilderness every so often, usually into mostly inaccessible areas. Perfect for secret training." He stroked his thick beard. "We thought that we'd sent a message to the Alliance indicating our desire to join. What happened?"

"Military intelligence," Sapphire answered. "I'm Lana, by the way. Alliance Intelligence heard of two groups on Kaal, one of them yours. A decision was made to contact the group that was more...'formally organised', but thankfully we were also given your group's details, 'just in case'."

"Well, you're probably mighty glad that 'just in case' worked out, huh?" Dane remarked. "Especially as it seems that you were being moved for a very high-ranking Imperial visitor, soon to be arriving here. We didn't have much time to prepare - at least these…interesting…weapons certainly help."

Winter shuddered to think of what could've been if Madine had got his hands on the Expedition weaponry they'd smuggled down as a 'gift' for the Rebel cell, then realised what Dane had said. "Who's the important visitor - General Crix Madine?"

"Not him," Dane replied, "someone even higher up the food chain. Someone who's probably going to be very upset we broke you out. Do you know how you're going to get off-planet, and how soon can you do so?"

"An extraction force is on its way," Garnett said. "We'll also be able to lift your group out as well."

"Oh, so there's room for twenty?" Dane remarked. "That's very nice of you, considering what we went through to get you out, Targeter. Who are you, exactly, and why are you so crucial to the Rebellion?"

"My name is Winter," she answered, "and I'll tell you all about me once we're back at your base."

* * *

The _Ginpyy_ plant is based on the unfortunately very real Gympie Gympie plant, which grows in tropical north-eastern Australia. Also, Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays everyone!


	17. Chapter 17

It's a short chapter but I've reached a natural pause. Merry Christmas everyone!

* * *

Well beyond the Kaal system's last planet, Kaal Prime did not provide enough light to illuminate anything. Only the drive exhaust of the _Millennium Falcon_ pinpointed her location as she slipped out of the boat bay of the Havenite battleship _Sinus Meridiani_ and streaked for the wedge perimeter. For Expedition ships such as the _Saint-Nazaire_ , five thousand kilometres away off the port ventral bow, there was nothing to give them away visually once their running lights were off. The only thing Han had to locate the warships were infrared sensors and even those were currently touch-and-go with both ships in full stealth mode.

"Millennium Falcon _, this is the_ Saint-Nazaire," Lieutenant Asthana's voice sounded over the com. " _Are you ready for the final systems test?_ "

"You heard him," Han growled angrily over his shoulder at the petty officer seated behind him. "We ready?"

"Oh yes," Petty Officer Aodhán O'Reilly said cheerfully, which only served to increase Han's ire. "Switching over to diffusers now," she continued, flicking a couple of new switches on the engineering panel.

On the bridge, Loup, Hershing and Kurtuluş carefully observed the tactical plot. As they watched, the symbol for the _Millennium Falcon_ changed from being solid-ringed - the icon of a confirmed identity with emissions being matched with the cruiser's war book - to being broken-ringed, which meant that CIC couldn't use emissions to make a positive ID.

"Visual," Loup commanded, and the tactical plot was replaced by a holo of space, which quickly zoomed in on the faint glow of the _Falcon's_ engines. She nodded to Asthana and he keyed the comm.

" _Millennium Falcon_ , confirming diffusers working as expected. Can we please try the paint now?"

As they watched, new markings appeared on the _Falcon_ 's hull where the Expedition had applied some of their reactive paint. Although the diffusers they'd installed over the last week were working nicely, Loup amongst others were well aware of the advantages of the 'Mark 1 eyeball' and had suggested a coat of reactive paint to assist in disguising the _Falcon_ further.

Loup looked at Hershing then Kurtuluş in turn, who both nodded. Satisfied, she walked over to her command chair and touched the com stud. " _Millennium Falcon_ , we're satisfied with the tests over here. You're good to go."

"You might be, but I'm not satisfied until we do one last test," Han replied curtly. Turning to O'Reilly, he ordered, "Switch 'em over."

With a sigh, she did so and the energy that had previously been powering the diffusers went surging into the _Falcon_ 's dual quad-laser mounts. He listened to the gunners on loan from the Expedition call their gun's readiness whilst monitoring the chrono, then gave O'Reilly a thumbs-up when _he_ was satisfied that he could switch from defence to offence in enough time. Han ignored the eye-roll as he spoke into the comm, " _Saint-Nazaire_ , Captain Solo here. _I_ am now satisfied with the tests on the _Falcon_. Moving into position and awaiting signal."

Chewbacca urfed a question as he manoeuvred the _Falcon_ to her preassigned position and checked the navicomp and hyperdrive readiness. Han shrugged and replied "Guess so." With a ship full of Expedition marines, gunners and electronics whizzes, at least he felt he was best prepared for anything.

* * *

Deeper into the system, the heavy cruiser HMS _Warspite_ traced a highly-inclined orbit three-and-a-bit minutes in from the hyperlimit. In a masterful bit of piloting, she'd deployed her own remote arrays in amongst those emplaced by the Empire in the outer system, before proceeding inwards to seed drones throughout the inner system. Firmly at the nexus of this web of information, Captain Joanna Dushku had a god's-eye-view of the goings-on of the Kaal System, especially the concealed bases and manufacturies in the outer system. If there was going to be an Imperial response, she would know about it almost instantly and be ready to direct backup forces - the RHNS _Saint-Nazaire_ at first, then the RHNS battleships _Noctis Labyrinthus_ and _Sinus Meridiani_ or their screening elements, or all of them - to where they may be needed.

"Skipper, Kingfisher, Kookaburra and Kestrel all report fully ready and are awaiting our signal," Lieutenant Wui-Yen Tsang announced.

"Very good, Lieutenant," Captain Dushku replied. Then, stepping close to the Assistant Tactical station, she asked more quietly, "How are you feeling, Wui-Yen?"

The use of her lieutenant's given name in the formal setting of the bridge had the effect Dushku was after - Wui-Yen looked up and gave her a slight smile.

"I'm OK, Skipper," she replied. "I'm trying to follow the Admiral's advice and not use my- the Force," she corrected herself, "but now that I'm aware of it, it's sometimes hard to ignore."

"That's alright, Lieutenant," Dushku remarked. "It seems that one of the pieces of advice that master Jedi give to their novices is to 'trust their feelings', and since trusting your feelings at Kuat saved our collective arses, I'm inclined to listen to what your feelings say. Just talk to me, or the XO or Guns first before taking action, OK?" she asked, not wishing to give her young lieutenant _carte blanche_ to act on her whims.

Wui-Yen responded with a broad smile, but in an instant it was replaced by a look of shocked fear on a whitening face, and Dushku's concern heightened as Wui-Yen retreated from her station, gathering her arms against her chest.

"Lieutenant?"

"I..." The young woman looked like she was going to faint from fear, and Dushku reached over to put a hand on Wui-Yen's arm. Their gazes locked, and Wui-Yen drew strength from the motherly concern on the other woman's dark face.

"I feel cold..." She said in the quietest voice Dushku had ever heard. "And fear, and the blackest hate..." She stopped and swallowed. "And anger, like the wrath of the gods distilled."

Her words made Dushku's hair stand on end. "Can you tell where it's coming from?"

"Out of system, but it's getting closer..." All of a sudden, Wui-Yen's hands flew to her mouth and her eyes widened even further. " _He's here_!"

"Contact!" Lieutenant Commander Broughton called out from her station. "Seven vessels just dropped out of hyperspace into orbit around the second planet," she continued, "CIC is working on identification, but one of them is nineteen kilometres long."

"The _Executor_ ," Commander Dawson murmured.

"And I'd bet good money that Darth Vader is on board," Dushku replied, considering Tsang's reaction and remembering other Alliance people's talks about their encounters with the Dark Lord. She briefly checked on the lieutenant - she was back at her console, but looked like she was working hard to stop her fear from overwhelming her.

"Comms, get me the _Saint-Nazaire_ please," Dushku ordered. "I think we're going to need our backup plan, and possibly the backup to our backup."

* * *

As the shuttle dropped towards the surface of Kaal, Darth Vader reflected on the Force presence that he had felt just as the _Executor_ had arrived in-system. Strong but untamed, and had retreated at his touch. Hm. It would be something he would have to investigate later, as there were other duties awaiting him on the surface.

And it was just as well, as the news that greeted him was not good. "Escaped," he muttered blackly, turning away from the lifeless body of what had been the local ISB commander.

"Regrettably," General Madine confirmed. "I, of course, argued the case for keeping her in my custody, however politics being politics..."

"Politics should be of a secondary concern to ensuring that Rebel spies _remain_ captured," Vader growled.

"Of course, my Lord," Madine agreed, "but unfortunately not all of us have the Empire's interests above their own."

"We will discuss that later," Vader remarked. "First, we will recapture the spy and destroy the rebel cell. I trust, General, that I can expect better results from your troops?"

"Indeed, my Lord," the general said. "We already have a significant lead and should have their hiding location by the morning." He handed over a datapad.

The Dark Lord read whilst walking at first, but soon stopped. "Dane's...Intrepid...Trekkers?" He ground out. The general didn't reply except for a shrug, and managed not to start when the pad crumpled in Vader's palm.

"Once you have their location, General, inform me immediately," Vader ordered. "I shall enjoy destroying them personally." He then stalked off, leaving Madine with the still-sparking remains of the pad.

* * *

Dane's Intrepid Trekkers turned out to be an eclectic mix of young idealists and old cynics, but despite their whimsical name, they were as well organised as any Rebel group Winter had seen. So when the guard had called in to report Imperial troops inbound during breakfast, there was no hesitation from anybody as they all jumped into action. Within five minutes, all the essentials had been moved to the escape route - Winter included - and defenders were in position.

The advance guard - a young, bearded man - ran through the door at the far end of the warehouse at a gallop, pausing only to trigger the heavy door to slam shut, but he didn't get far before he was caught in the explosion as the warehouse wall was breached.

A tall black figure strode through the resulting hole, cape billowing, red lightsaber buzzing and white Stormtroopers at his heels. "Surrender or be destroyed!" he bellowed; personally, Vader would be glad if they didn't surrender.

A couple of Rebels obliged and opened fire with blasters; Vader contemptuously swatted the bolts back at the attackers. No further fire resulted but instead, there was the sound of people retreating hurriedly. _A pity_ , Vader thought, and strode further into the warehouse.

A loud _tchunk_ echoed through the vast room and Vader flung himself to one side as a projectile shot down from the upper level, two flat shimmering plates appearing above and below as it crossed the room before plunging straight through the breach in the wall. Stormtroopers caught by the plates were rent in two, their shrieks of pain only drowned out by the thunderous explosion from outside.

Vader funneled his growing anger into the Force, which responded by coiling around him as he drew back his hand to throw his saber at the one remaining life-form he could sense. Before he could let the lightsaber fly, the being opened up with their own weapon.

A whining sound filled the warehouse, followed quickly by a crackling sound as thousands of explosive-tipped darts ripped out from Mogharra's tribarrel. Vader leapt up over the stream of supersonic darts but they followed him, and he found himself ducking and weaving amongst the crates and containers littering the warehouse floor.

The weapon was unlike any Vader had faced. Attempting to use his lightsaber to block the darts simply resulted in them detonating in his face and the darts had enough explosive power to relieve him of a limb (again). If he'd had enough time to concentrate, he would've been able to deflect them but the ravening fire didn't let up. All he could do was slowly move forward as he dodged the unrelenting stream... until it suddenly stopped.

Vader collapsed against the wall he had been leaping towards, ventilator struggling to provide the oxygen he needed. It was a good five seconds before he forced himself up upwards again and headed towards the sound of a Wookiee running away. Through corridors and around corners he chased, until he entered a room scattered with containers and an open floor hatch in one corner - the rebel's obvious escape route.

He lit his lightsaber again, ready to jump down the hole, when the Force shrieked a warning at him. The leap down became a leap straight up, lightsaber positioned to carve an escape hole in the ceiling, as a _tchunk_ sound echoed out of the hatch. The floor of the room leapt up just before the missile slammed into the ceramcrete end of the tunnel, the warhead easily breaching the thick structural wall and the fuel tank behind it, with the various chemicals in the warehouse contributing to the inferno.

By the time General Madine arrived, the fire was so ferocious that he couldn't approach any closer than fifty metres. "Nobody could have survived that," he muttered to himself, and turned away... only to turn back as the faint sound of a respirator registered.

Darth Vader strode out of the firestorm, his cloak missing but his roiling anger providing a more than adequate substitute. Without a word, he stalked past Madine, who followed him to the transport.

"These rebels are far more organised and equipped than expected," the Dark Lord said once Madine had caught up. "Signal General Veers aboard my ship and have him send a battalion down. We will show these rebels the futility of resisting the Empire."

* * *

That night on Kaal was unlike any other in living memory. At first the troopers stayed by the warehouses, but soon they were moving throughout Uppsjaal, blaster carbines at the ready, stopping and frisking - and sometimes detaining - anyone they deemed suspicious. The night's revelry in Uppsjaal were tinged with an aftertaste of fear.

Early the next morning, the burnt-out airspeeder was found, and two more battalions descended down from the looming Super Star Destroyer. The local garrisons were also turned out and soon, white-helmed Stormtroopers could be found throughout Kaal's major cities. Anyone who protested was taken away quickly and forcefully and some did not reappear after. And in the midst of it all was the black form of the Lord of the Sith.


	18. Chapter 18

I've made a mistake with my Expedition admirals; see if you can spot it.

Also: as of Easter, I'm finally writing again! The Australian summer was so brutally hot, it was difficult to think about day-to-day stuff, let alone story writing. Some have asked if this has been abandoned - no it hasn't, (I think) I've got an amazing battle scene coming up, I just have to get it out of my head and onto silicon. However, I don't think I'll be updating frequently, the next few chapters are going to be complex enough that I'll need to check them thoroughly before posting.

* * *

They were all nervous, Tycho could sense as he picked up his meal. It was only natural - he was nervous too. The appearance of the _Executor_ and attending squadron had changed a relatively-straightforward intelligence extraction effort into something none of these officers really wanted to contemplate.

Especially with a Dark Lord of the Sith in attendance.

His thoughts turned briefly to the intelligence asset on the surface, codenamed 'Targeter'. Word from the _Warspite_ was that the backup team had linked up with a Rebel cell on the surface and got her out of Imperial custody, but with Darth Vader in pursuit, Tycho wondered if there was going to be a team left to extract once they figured out how to get around that 'Super' Star Destroyer. Or maybe they'd be assaulting the Star Destroyer directly, if things got that bad.

His search of the anxious faces in the mess was cut short by the wave of a hand from a dark-skinned, broad nosed woman in black-and-gold a few tables away and he wandered over to find not only Joanna Dushku but also Amanda Loup. "Thank you, ladies," Tycho said as he sat down.

Taking a mouthful of his meal, Tycho took a chance to study to faces of the two women. Joanna was deep in thought, dark brown eyes staring into nothingness, whilst Amanda was speed-reading a data pad in front of her. If they were nervous, they didn't show it; instead, they both exuded distilled concentration and Tycho had no doubt that both of them were fiendishly thinking of ways to solve their conundrum.

"Amanda?"

Startled, Amanda shook her head as she looked up before focusing on her Manticorean counterpart. Joanna didn't continue immediately; her eyes were still unfocused, but her lips were pursed as if she was about speak. "Joanna," Amanda prompted softly.

"The _Executor_ is just one ship," Joanna said, locking eyes with the other captain.

"But with more firepower and fighter craft than anything but the Death Star," Tycho felt he had to interject.

"Yes, but -" Joanna retorted, then grabbed the pad from the Havenite captain and began stabbing it. "On their side, there's the _Executor_ , six Imperial Star Destroyers and Kaal's indigenous defences, right?"

"Which just happens to include _two_ Golan defence platforms over Kaal II," Tycho pointed out.

"Right. Now, we've got two half-squadrons of SD's - eight all up - who have a squadron of battlecruisers and heavy cruisers each, three light cruiser squadrons to cover that lot and assorted destroyers, then our two battleships, my ship, your ship and our tin cans."

"Plus the _Charlie Whiskey_."

"You mean _Charlie Ward_."

"That's what I said - see-doubleyou - Charlie Whiskey."

"Plus two MC80s, two MC75s, thirteen corvettes all up and seven starfighter squadrons," Tycho interjected again.

"Right. So - what's the most dangerous element the Imperials have?"

"The _Executor_ ," Amanda said, at the same time Tycho replied, "The Golans."

Joanna shook her head with an expression of disagreement. "I actually think that the most dangerous elements are the Imperial Star Destroyers, because they're the most mobile. We saw how the _Executor_ is still constrained by physics; she turns like a…"

"Hutt?"

"That'll do," Joanna said, waving a hand at Tycho. "So if I was them, and we came charging in to low orbit, I'd be using the ISDs as a hammer against us, with either the Golans or the _Executor_ as anvils."

"Okay," Amanda said, mulling it over. "So what's your plan?"

Joanna told them.

Tycho gave a snort of humourless laughter. "Seriously? What about the fighter screen - or you think those TIE fighters are just going to stay in their hangars whilst we pound their ships to bits? And how the _hell_ -"

"You've got no idea how our system of combat developed, flyboy," Amanda retorted. "The gist of the plan is sound and I also feel we'll have no problem with the fighters, especially as - you included - you all think you need to eyeball your target in order to shoot it."

"How else are you going to find your targets?"

"Just you watch, Lieutenant," Amanda said with a smile. "Anyways, Joanna, I think you've forgotten our objective."

"I have?" Joanna asked, a bit surprised, before slumping in realisation. "I have."

"Not to worry," Amanda said with a pat on her fellow captain's hand, "I've been having my own thoughts about this…" which she explained to the other two. Once finished, both Tycho and Joanna mulled it over, with Joanna nodding slowly in agreement.

"I like it," she said.

"There's something missing, though," Tycho said, drumming his fingers on the table as he thought - before snapping them as the answer came to him.

"The planetary shield."

"The _what_?" the two captains asked, before looking at each other in horror. "You mean to say -"

"There's the capability to project an energy shield around the whole planet," Tycho said. "Once it's up, it will be able to repel any bombardment."

" _Any?_ "

"The last time the Alliance brought down a similar shield, we crashed two Imperial Star Destroyers into a weak point," Tycho explained and the two women looked at each other, dejected.

"That's the only way we brought it down from the outside," Tycho continued. "I mean, if we put a strike force inside the shield perimeter before it went up, then they'd be able to attack a generator at one of the shield poles. Taking a generator out of action would open up a small but exploitable hole in the shield above the affected pole."

"And how would you normally do that?" Joanna asked.

Tycho thought the answer through, recalling various simulations and scenarios he'd gone through as a member of a TIE fighter squadron. "We'd need at least a squadron of X-wings and Y-wings to assault one generator," he finally said. "The Empire builds those things tough, with a permanent shield around each generator building. Oh, the generator shield won't repel everything - I remember one Star Destroyer captain destroying a generator with a one-two turbolaser-torpedo combination - but our fighters can't pack that much firepower, _and_ we'd need to keep TIE fighters off our own backs, and once the main shield goes up - and it'll go up very quickly - there's no chance of reinforcing the strike force,"

"What about one of our missiles?" Amanda asked.

"Don't know," Tycho said. "What are their specs?" Amanda took the pad back, tapped it to bring up the relevant information then handed it to Tycho, whose eyebrows climbed his forehead upon reading the information.

"That'll do it!" he said enthusiastically. "Can they be air-launched?"

"Uh…" the two captains looked at each other and shrugged. "Nobody's tried," Amanda said.

"And I'm not sure if you can fit one to your starfighters," Joanna added. "We'd really need, what, an assault shuttle or pinnace?"

"Are those hyper capable?" Tycho asked, to which the captains shook their heads. "Damn."

The three of them lapsed into silence, thinking the issue through, until Tycho said, "We've got a couple of small freighters we could use…"

* * *

Vice-admirals Krane and Oversteegen strode into the room and everyone shot to their feet. "As you were," the lanky Manticorean called, taking the seat at the head of the table with the Alliance admiral to his right. Tycho was mildly surprised - he'd've thought that the Alliance would've insisted on their personnel being in charge. Then again, with the Expedition supplying the bulk of the Star Destroyer-analogue 'super dreadnoughts' in the fallback squadron, perhaps the Alliance had thought it wiser to give leadership to the admiral with the weight of firepower.

"Alright," Oversteegen began. "Murphy has struck again, well and truly." A ripple of laughter spread through the assembled Expedition officers, defusing the tension, even amongst the Alliance personnel who had no idea what Oversteegen was talking about. "Our staffs have conferred and we can see no way out of this without some attempt on the Super Star Destroyer we were attempting to catch in dock. However, people like yourselves in both the Expedition and the Alliance certainly have experience with impracticable situations and I'm sure that amongst ourselves, we will figure out a solution to this predicament."

"Sir?" a voice called from behind Tycho. "Is there likely to be any further backup?"

Admiral Krane answered this question. "I'm unable to confirm at this time, but the answer is likely to be 'no'."

"Admirals?" a woman's voice called from down the table, and Tycho turned to see the Havenite commodore who'd been in charge of their initial little squadron. "Captain Dushku of the HMS _Warspite_ , Captain Loup of the _Saint-Nazaire_ and Lieutenant Celchu, 2IC of Rogue Flight have been brainstorming this over the past few hours, and they believe they've got an outline of a plan they'd like to present to the group for review, sir."

"Just what have you been up to, Celchu?" Wedge Antilles murmured to Tycho's right.

"Figuring out how we can do this without getting our butts vaped," Tycho responded just as softly.

Michael Oversteegen brightened considerably at the news that someone had been looking at the problem whilst waiting for his superdreadnought task force to arrive. "By all means, Commodore Sanjeev - let's hear what the proposal is."

* * *

The shuttle landed a couple of kilometres away from the objective - standard procedure when there was the possibility of an anti-air attack. A Sentinel-class shuttle had a near-miss the day before when one of the strange missiles clipped a wing. He'd personally inspected the damage on the shuttle's return and was convinced that it was the same technology used by whoever had killed Jabba the Hutt…and destroyed the _Reprisal_.

"All clear, My Lord," a trooper at the end of the ramp announced, and Darth Vader strode into the cool, still, pre-dawn air. A brightening to east gave a hint of the intense light that would soon be arriving.

General Madine finished conferring with the scouts and he stepped up to Darth Vader's side. "They're about a kilometre up the gorge," he said, pointing.

Vader sent a tendril of the Force snaking in the direction indicated. "There is no time to waste," he announced, striding forward and the rest of the contingent hurried to keep up. "If we are to ensure that there is no escape for them this time."

"Okay… two squads of Stormtroopers are entering the gorge, with two officers attached to them," Winter said softly as she looked through the quadnocs. "Unable to make out rank."

"I think one of them is a general," Lana replied just as softly, although she had the advantage of the scope on her pulse rifle. Soon, sounds of feet splashing through water could be heard echoing up the gorge - soft enough to be missed if they'd've been asleep. Fortunately, the watch-standers in Dane's group took their duty seriously but then, the threat of capture and execution concentrated the mind wonderfully.

Upping the gain on the quadnocs made the image grainy at high magnifications but fortunately, white Stormtrooper armour showed up clear as day even at low magnification. Winter located a suitable victim and pressed the rangefinder button. "Second outcropping, 1200 metres," she announced once she was sure all of them were in view.

"Acquired." There was a few second's pause whilst Lana steadied herself, then…

The _crack_ of the supersonic dart echoed up and down the canyon as the trooper fell, and his compatriots either side of him went to ground with him. Lana quickly shouldered the pulse rifle and took the quadnocs off Winter as she lifted the blaster rifle to her shoulder, aimed and fired at the gorge wall above the troopers - before turning and running hard after Lana up the rocky path. Blaster bolts spattered off the rock behind her, sending sharp chips digging into the back of her neck, before the cries of men being buried under tonnes of rock echoed up the ravine.

Gulping mouthfuls of air at the top of the climb, she pounded down the barely-visible path, cursing the scrubby vegetation for not providing more cover. She looked to her left as she ran, slowing down briefly as the sound of someone else crashing through vegetation registered, before pushing her legs on as fast as she could as she recognised the black shape closing in. She rounded the last corner and sprinted for the carpark, where an air bus was already hot-wired and waiting.

" _Winter!_ " Lana cried, spotting her, and charged down the path towards her; baffled, Winter pulled up short before she recognised the sound of something scything through the air behind her. Instinctively she turned towards it and -

Lana plowed into her and knocked her flat as the flying red lightsaber flashed across her vision; there was a brief scream from the other woman and then she was still. Dazed, Winter looked up to find a shiny metallic tube in front of her and she instinctively grabbed it, before it attempted to wrench itself out of her hands. She followed the direction it was being drawn towards to find the black shape a few hundred metres away, hand outstretched.

She kept a hold of the lightsaber with all her strength as she scrabbled for her rifle with her other hand; in response, the force on the lightsaber increased further. She got her blaster rifle to her shoulder and fired, but the shape's other hand shot up and deflected the bolts away - at least the force on the lightsaber lessened as he did so. Taking full advantage, she scrambled to her feet and grabbed the pulser rifle instead, bringing it to bear as the lightsaber twisted in her grip and ignited, the red blade caressing her leg.

Screaming, she let go of the lightsaber as she fell to her knees, then flat on her front again. The ruby-red blade shot towards the black man, hesitated, then angled towards her just as she brought the pulser to bear again and fired.

The whine of flying pulser darts filled the air for a full second before she overrode instinct and let go of the trigger, but it was at least enough to break the black man's concentration and stop her being skewered by the lightsaber. It shut off again and she blinked as her eyes attempted to adjust to the darkness, before the crashing sound started again. She aimed in the direction of the noise and fired back, but this time the black man's hand came up and she heard the darts being deflected away into the bush.

A bellow from behind startled her before the snarl of a tribarrel assaulted her ears. The black man stopped, both hands up to deflect the stream of darts, before Winter's night vision was destroyed by the flash of plasma fire.

Burralis kept up the fire with his plasma carbine as Mogharra hoisted Winter over his shoulder and ran up the path. She looked up at the flaming scrub as he ran, finding no sign of the black man amongst the flashes of plasma fire. Unceremoniously, the Wookiee threw her into the bus before jumping up herself with a yell and the bus was moving as Burralis jumped on, hooking himself into the guard rail before continuing to lay down cover fire with the carbine. Winter struggled into a seat and looked out the window to see Darth Vader leaping around like an acrobat as the balls of plasma created a cauldron of fire around him.

"You're wasting ammo, Burralis!" Dane shouted.

"Oh, so do you want this bus brought down by a flying lightsaber?" the Lasat shot back, but by that time, the air bus had gained enough altitude and speed that they were safe from thrown lightsaber attacks. As they turned, Winter looked out at the landscape -

" _To the left!_ " she yelled. " _Turn to the left!_ Burralis -"

But he'd already seen what she had and quickly had the plasma carbine ready and waiting as they flew by the shuttle. At this range, the carbine couldn't do a lot of damage, but it appeared that it did enough to prevent an aerial tail for the time being.

As the bus fled, Winter started hobbling to the back of the air bus, but was stopped by Dane on the way. "We can't keep this up much longer."

"I know," Winter replied. "But it's bloody difficult to get past six Imperial Star Destroyers and that behemoth."

"They'll have to find a way," Dane replied, but he knew as well as she did the suicide mission that their extraction ships would be undertaking. He let her go and she made her way up to the last unoccupied row. Slumping into the seat, she waited until she'd treated her burn and the sun had risen before allowing herself the privilege of mourning for Lana.

* * *

The Two-Onebee had just finished applying the restraint to General Madine's broken arm when a clearly angry Darth Vader strode in. "I hope you're not going to relieve me of my arm," the general said, "I've just had it fixed."

The dark form was still for a while, and Madine wondered if it was because he was fighting the urge to laugh, or trying to figure out what humour was.

"You may keep your arm, General," he finally rumbled, "but do not be surprised if I take you up on your offer next time. As it is your brain that I value the most, I am sure it will be a suitable compromise."

"Indeed, My Lord," Madine answered, slightly chastened. "On that point, I do believe you did not come here originally to hunt down a Rebel cell - I understand you wanted my opinion on something?"

Wordlessley, Vader extracted a data chip from his belt pouch and handed it to the general. "You have heard of the destruction of the _Reprisal_ above Tatooine?"

"Yes. I'm still shocked whenever I think about it."

"The Rebel ship which did this also attacked and killed Jabba the Hutt in his palace."

Madine opened his mouth and closed again. "Interesting."

"That datachip contains all evidence I have been able to gather on the weapons used in the ground assault. I would like you to review it and give me your opinion on the technology and tactics used by that group."

Madine fingered the chip. "Well, seeing as I'm out of action for at least the next twenty-six hours, I'll have a look at it, My Lord."

"Excellent," Vader said. "Time is of the essence, considering that it appears that similar weapons are being used by the Rebel cell here." And he handed over a deformed object.

Madine held it up and examined it - modern weapons technology being what it was, he had no idea about ballistics, but even he could make out that the object was once an aerodynamic projectile.

Getting up from the bed, he pocketed both items, and the Dark Lord turned to leave. "Lord Vader?"

The armoured form stopped at Madine's question. "Might I recommend," the general continued, "that we bring in the _Arc Hammer_? This appears to be a situation where Dark Troopers are required."

Once more, the dark form was still for a moment. "An excellent suggestion, General Madine," he remarked, before striding out of the medcentre room.


	19. Chapter 19

Hi everyone! It's been a long time between drinks...

Because this part of the story is complex, I've been attempting to write ahead as much as possible in case I find I need to amend a previous chapter to fit the story direction better. This chapter's worth of material has been sitting unchanged for a while, so it's probably time to post it.

* * *

The Twi'lek was taking a moment to watch their escorts form up on the cruisers when his wrist-link began to pulse in time with the chime from his desk. A light tap to the wrist-link stilled both. "Go ahead."

"Sir, Aurek Bay," the woman on the other end replied. "The Admiral's shuttle has landed."

"Very well, Lieutenant," Captain Ta-em Irkoni replied, "Irkoni out."

He went back to watching the Manticorean superdreadnought shrink as the Alliance portion of the task force pulled away, until the only thing he could make out of the bulky ship were the glowing drive rings, nearly merging into one, before the sidewalls snapped up and distorted the view. Even now, he knew, there was still the better part of 150 kilometres to go until their ships could be free of the hyperdrive-crippling gravitic distortions of the _Intransigent_ 's drive wedge and make the jump to lightspeed. Whilst it wouldn't take long for their cruisers to cover that distance, it still unnerved him a little that the Expedition ships had that natural advantage, just because of the realspace drive systems they used.

It wasn't the only thing that unnerved him about their new surprise allies. They exuded a quiet confidence that they could succeed in whatever mission was put in front of them, despite the fact that they were about to head into the teeth of Darth Vader's personal forces, which by definition were the best the Empire had to offer. Reports from defectors were that the Dark Lord dealt with any failure of his subordinates rather…terminally, which meant that the Imperial ships around Kaal would not be inclined to retreat, no matter what firepower the Alliance could put up against them.

His _lekku_ twitched. Cham Syndulla had bred the Rebellion fervour well in him, but he felt that some fights were better to walk away from. Tackling a Super Star Destroyer and escort head-on for a lowly intelligence operative, with their brand-new and untried Mon Calamari star cruisers, was not the definition of a sane operation to him. Far better, in his opinion, to head back to Mon Cala, to assist in the uprising which was going to light off any day now - now there was a worthy fight, no matter what the Imperials threw at them in revenge! However, since the admiral that he was chief-of-staff for was spoiling for a fight here and now and there was a chance to bloody the nose of _Darth Vader himself_ , there was little else he could do to persuade his commanding officer otherwise.

There was a signal from the door. "Enter," Ta-em called as he turned to see who it was-

Aren Koth, Krane's operations officer and nearly as headstrong as the admiral himself, barely cleared the hatch as he strode in. "A _feint_. That's the part those arrogant idiots want us to play!" And he jabbed the data pad he was holding forcefully at the Twi'lek, who took it a bit more gently to read through, leaving Koth to whirl away and start pacing in frustration.

"So I see," Ta-em said half a minute later. "And when will the Expedition ships be engaging?"

"Only once our ships have jumped away to 'a specified safe location'! Stars, Ta-em, this is what they think of us - all those damned humans think alike!", the Zabrak ground out. "That we're not capable of fighting for ourselves!"

"I'd look at it the other way," Ta-em said, "they're making us take the punishment so that their superdreadnoughts are not exposed to the full firepower of the Star Destroyers. But it is what it is, Aren. What does Krane think?"

"Not sure," Aren said, surprisingly calmly. "He hasn't said a word since the briefing."

Another chime from Ta-em's desk distracted them both and the Twi'lek looked at his wrist-link to see who it was. "Well, we're about to find out what he thinks - the admiral's asking for us on the flag bridge," he announced. He and Aren shared a look before Ta-em led the way out of the hatch.

"Something else is eating you," Ta-em remarked to Aren as they walked through the corridors. Aren didn't reply at first, but instead looked…guilty? Ta-em wasn't sure he'd seen that expression on the Zabrak captain before.

Aren sighed as Ta-em continued to look at him for an answer. "It's a bloody rumour," he snapped quietly, pulling his fellow captain into a quieter side corridor as he did so, "but I think it bears considering with regard to the circumstances. Anyway, it seems that instead of Terekhov, Oversteegen is the one who should be in charge of the Expedition."

"What?" Ta-em exclaimed, louder than he wanted to be, and he instinctively glanced at the open end of the corridor before continuing more quietly. "There could be plenty of reasons for their command structure -"

"The rumour is that Oversteegen is - technically - more senior than Terekhov," Aren explained quickly. "Seems that a few years back, Oversteegen got captured by whoever they were fighting at the time and brutally tortured. I've heard that this is his first assignment since being released from rehabilitation."

This took Ta-em back briefly. "Are you implying," he said carefully, "that Oversteegen is unfit for command?"

"Not at all," Aren vehemently denied. "What I'm saying is that we need to scrutinise his decisions as much as possible. You know how some of ours turned out after they'd been tortured."

Ta-em knew indeed - they'd seem fine until the pressure was applied, then they'd do one of two things: fall to pieces, or throw themselves into a raging, suicidal charge at the enemy. What would Oversteegen do, he wondered?

"I see your point," Ta-em replied a moment's thought, "but we can't do anything about this now. Like you said, it's a _rumour_ , so we'll wait for the after-action review to see if there's anything to be concerned about regarding Oversteegen."

"If he's still around to report," Aren muttered as they restarted their journey to the bridge.

Krane gave them both barely a glance as Aren and Ta-em entered the flag bridge, as his attention was focussed on a holo of Admiral Oversteegen on the _Intransigent_ , alongside a holo of the Liberty's captain, Raddol. "When the _Basilisk_ dropped off her LACs, she passed confirmation - the Mon Cala Uprising has kicked off and an Imperial reprisal attack is likely, so the rest of the fleet is headed there," Oversteegen was saying in passable Basic. "Once you've completed your planned actions at Kaal, your squadron is directed to proceed at best speed to Mon Cala to assist their uprising - and reinforce the defences against the predicted attack."

Although it wasn't overtly visible, Ta-em could still sense the relief in the face of Raddol and in the Mon Calamari crew on the flag bridge. "We greatly appreciate your gesture," Raddol replied. "Our people have been looking forward to throwing off the Empire's shackles for many years."

"I believe that our remaining forces should be able to handle the extraction of our assets off Kaal once your squadron has distracted them," Oversteegen remarked. There it was - the confidence that Aren had talked about. Try as he could, though, Ta-em could not make out any contempt towards the Alliance forces in Oversteegen's face, although his oddly accented Basic made it sound as though he was condescending.

"I do believe we'll be able to soften them up for you, Admiral," Krane replied, his own confidence shining through. "We'll be awaiting your signal. Godspeed, Admiral."

"May the force be with you all, gentlebeings," Oversteegen replied, before his holo vanished. The moment it did, Krane was out of his chair like a shot.

"Tactical!" he called. "On Oversteegen's mark, set a countdown for eighteen hours. Captains Koth, Irkoni, Raddol - with me please in Briefing Room 1. Comms, signal the other squadron commanders, have them join us by holo please. Let's refresh ourselves of the plan again, whilst there's time."

Ta-em fell in next to Krane as they made their way to the hatch. "You have no doubts about the plan?" he queried.

Krane shot him a sideways glance, and the corners of his mouth flickered upwards. "Thinking that I'm jealous at not being in the main attack group, Ta-em?" he queried lightheartedly. "Taking on the Death Squadron in a running firefight," he continued, rubbing his hands together in contentment. "This will be the most fun I've had in years!"

* * *

The message was sent in the clear, piggybacked onto one of the planet-wide broadcasts as a single frame image awash with static. However, since the image was written in English transcribed into visual Morse, Winter figured that there was a low likelihood of the message being understood, even when it was intercepted - there was no way it wouldn't be.

 _Bloenvijdroot 18 hours_.

"We'll be cutting it a bit fine," Dane remarked amid the controlled chaos of his group packing up, "but we'll make it - just - if we leave now. And play it safe."

Winter nodded, almost absentmindedly. The Alliance/Expedition were coming for them, and she didn't want to be recaptured just as the extraction team arrived. Not after surviving a week on the run from Madine and Vader.

Dane continued to stare out at the setting sun, hands working. Recognising his stress, Winter placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Hey," she said softly, "The Alliance will lift us off. I'm sure they will. We look after our own; that's what makes us different from the Empire." Even if she had to stay with the Trekkers on-planet whilst an extra pickup was organised, there was no way she was leaving without them.

Dane gave her a lopsided smile. "Thank you, Winter," he replied, "but that's not what I'm worried about."

"Oh?"

"No," he continued. "What I'm worried about right now is what price we may have to pay for assistance from the local group in Bloenvijdroot."

Winter blinked in surprise. "I thought you said you're was the only Rebel group on Kaal. Are they Imperials on the take? Mercenaries?"

"Corrupt Imperials may have been easier," Dane said. "No, they're rebels…just not _your_ Rebels. The best word to describe them would be… _extremists_."

* * *

" _Do you have anything to report at all, Mr Hirtek?_ " The ire in the senior captain's voice was plain to hear, even over the comm. Captain Hirtek didn't blame him one bit, if the report by Lord Vader was correct.

"I'm afraid I haven't, Captain Piett," he responded. "There are no examples of such a code in Imperial databanks. I repeat, _nothing_. And with a message this short, I can't begin to decipher anything meaningful. All I can say - honestly, with all respect - is that one symbol group repeats four times."

On the bridge, Piett rubbed his eyes and forced himself to think, but was unable to come up with any ideas on how to proceed further. Finally he said, "Very well, Mr Hirtek. Keep at it. Piett, out."

He clipped the com back onto his belt and took a quick look at the situational holo. Since interception of the message several hours ago, Kaal had been in lockdown with the shield up, the garrisons turned out and the Death Squadron scattered around the planet at Readiness One - and he'd been up for twenty-four hours straight. Actually, so had most of the crews on his ships, especially whilst at Readiness One.

"It's almost like Kuat again, isn't it?" the watch officer remarked at his side, and Piett stared tiredly at her for a moment before her words registered. "Gravitics," he called out to the newly-appointed sensor station, "any signals?"

"Nothing on our scopes, not even from the perimeter stations," came the answering call, and Piett mulled on that for a few seconds before finally sighing and coming to a decision. "Officer of the Watch, signal to the fleet - secure from Readiness One and maintain Readiness Two for eight more hours, then secure from battle stations if nothing out of the ordinary occurs - or if Intelligence don't come up with anything more from that intercept. You have the bridge." With that, he dragged himself down to his quarters for some much-needed sleep.

* * *

The rocking of the bus became more jerky, and Winter abandoned her attempt to catch some more fitful sleep. The interior lights were off - the only illumination came from the cockpit console - and outside the windows was pitch black. A slight pressure in her ears told her that they were descending, but a quick check of her chrono showed that only ten hours had passed since their departure.

Winter frowned, puzzled. Hadn't Dane said that they'd barely make Bloenvijdroot in time?

Carefully, she got out of her seat and limped forwards to the cockpit door, where she could see Garnett focussed on the instruments and Dane equally focussed on the darkness outside. Dane's head turned fractionally at her approach, then went back to looking through the forward viewscreen.

"Hey," Winter said by way of greeting. "How's it going?"

"All good so far," Garnett said. "Of course, it's dragged on a bit because we can't go supersonic, but better that than being shot down."

"Bit of a storm coming up now," Dane interjected.

"Is that why we're descending?"

"No," Dane answered. "We're coming up on our meeting point, just outside of Bloenvijdroot."

"But I thought you said…" Winter began, as she played back the conversation in her head, before trailing off as she realised Dane hadn't given her an actual travel time.

The darkness outside was pierced by a brilliant flash of lightning, and the bus' motions started to get more violent. "Best strap in," Garnett recommended, and Winter returned to her seat and changed the bacta dressing on her burned leg as rain began to drum sharply on the windows.

The tempest was well and truly raging by the time they touched down and Winter pitied Mogharra, who was sent out into the storm by Dane whilst the rest of them readied weapons and kept watch. The teeming downpour made it difficult to see to the other side of the wide street they'd landed in, except when lightning crashed across the sky. Winter didn't mind this state of affairs at all though - it made them and their bus difficult to make out to any passers-by.

Still, the longer they spent here, the more nervous she became, and she made a conscious effort to keep her fingers outside the pulser's trigger guard as her hand clenched and unclenched on the grip. Beside her, she could hear the _click-click-click_ of someone flicking the safety on their pulser until a muffled, annoyed grunt from somebody else made it stop.

The next flash of lightning illuminated a solitary, tall figure loping through the rain towards them, and there was a collective clatter as they all readied themselves in response. Winter peered out into the gloom, straining with all her senses to make out the being amongst the rain, but by the time she recognised the figure as Mogharra, the Wookiee was appearing in the bus doorway, soundlessly beckoning them to come. Hunched over in single-file they followed her into the rain. There was an unhappy stance to Mogharra's gait, and Winter wasn't sure it was entirely due to the weather.

Presently they came to a ramp, which plunged downwards beneath a tall, featureless building. Mogharra didn't pause as she led them down into the dimly-lit passage, and soon the sound of rain couldn't muffle their footfalls any more. Winter cringed as their steps started to echo and hunched down further, pulser ready to snap up in an instant, injured leg beginning to burn despite the batch patch on it.

Mogharra darted sideways into a little nook so quickly that Winter nearly missed it, and there were a series of muffled curses as her manoeuvring to catch up almost caused those following her to crash into each other. This corridor was even darker and Winter refocused on following the person ahead of her as the corridor twisted and turned.

She turned another corner and suddenly had to squint against the bright light, so bright that she stopped in her tracks as she couldn't see where she was going. Scuffs of boot against permacrete signalled the other members of their group doing the same thing.

"So, what have we here?" someone behind the lights asked in Rodian. Cautiously, slowly, Winter tucked her pulser into her belt before extending both hands outward, palms towards the speaker - a universally-recognised sign of peace.

"Peace? In a time of war like this?" the voice continued contemptuously. "Saw was right - you people have no appetite for the task that must be done."

"Don't we?" Winter shot back hotly. "Saw Gerrera is dead in the rubble of Jedha. Who avenged him - who got the Death Star plans off Scarif, who found the weakness, flew the fighters against the monstrosity?"

Silence was the answer she got. "Listen - we are both aiming for the same goal, even though we choose different paths," she began again. "I have intelligence that's vital for the continued existence of a rebellion against the Empire. An Alliance extraction force will be here, in Bloenvijdroot, in a few hours. If you could assist us, I'm sure we could come to some sort of arrangement," she pleaded. Mentally, she tripled her count of people to be lifted and hoped the combined Alliance/Expedition forces would be amenable to taking so many.

Once again, silence greeted her. She licked her lips nervously before opening her mouth again, but what she was about to say was cut off when a hood was placed over her head, her pulser was taken out of her belt and her hands were bound in front of her, before their captors wordlessly led her and the others in Dane's group, despite their protests, deeper into the tunnels under the city.


	20. Chapter 20

Even with her eidetic memory, Winter found it difficult to keep track of their path through the tunnels as the being holding on to her was much taller than her and forced her to focus primarily on keeping upright. She still figured, however, that they'd been walking for an hour and a half before she was separated from the rest of Dane's group to be taken somewhere else.

Less than ten minutes after leaving the others, though, her captor made her stop. A brief, quiet conversation took place with someone, then she was pushed forwards again. Not five minutes later, they stopped again and another short conversation took place, and Winter realised that they were being stopped at checkpoints.

Finally, she heard herself being led into a larger, more open space. The hood was removed and Winter looked around the room as quickly and as unobtrusively as she could. It turned out to be a windowless box with permacrete walls, decorated here and there with weapons and dark splashes. Directly in front of her was a tall Wookiee with black fur, shot through with patches of white here and there from old wounds. As she watched, her pulser was handed to it, and it began to examine the weapon closely, deft paws turning the unfamiliar weapon this way and that.

Thirty seconds passed, during which the Wookiee continued to ignore her, engrossed as it was in its study of the pulser, until Winter finally lost patience. "I'm…"

She trailed off as the Wookiee paused in its examination, then tensed as it suddenly straightened up into a firing stance, but the weapon wasn't aimed at her. The _crack_ of a single non-explosive dart plowing into the wall was still enough to make her flinch and she silently thanked the Force that she hadn't loaded the explosive darts earlier.

The Wookiee bellowed, and someone behind her ran out of the room. Still holding the pulser, it sat back in the seat behind it and growled.

A prod in the back made her realise that the growl was meant for her. "Sorry?" she replied, "I didn't get that."

The Wookiee gave her a contemptuous look from under lowered brows, before growling again, this time in a dialect she could understand. _[An interesting weapon you carry, human. Where did you find it?]_

"It's from one of the members of the Alliance to Restore the Republic," Winter replied. "They're coming here for me - for us," she quickly amended. "If you help us, they may be able to help you as well."

The Wookiee grunted. _[And what sort of help would the Alliance want to give me, Zekarra, and my Partisans_ _of Kaal_ _?]_

"We should be able to lift you off Kaal with us," Winter replied. "I'm sure there'll be enough lift capacity for the Partisans as well…if you don't mind me asking, how large is your group?"

 _[The Partisans number the same as all the slaves in the Kaal system,]_ Zekarra replied. _[Will the Alliance take them all when they arrive?]_

Winter blinked at the demand. "Not right now," she replied, a note of protest in her voice. "Certainly, with some preparation, the Alliance -"

Zekarra waved a hand to cut her off. _[Then the Partisans and I will stay.]_

"Uh…understood," Winter said. She licked her lips nervously before continuing: "Do you think you could still help us?"

 _[We shall see,]_ Zekarra said enigmatically.

Winter was still trying to think of an appropriate response when she became aware of the commotion at the back of the room - the being sent away by Zekarra had returned, and had brought others with it.

They pushed their way past Winter - rather, two blindfolded humans were pushed forward by a Rodian until they were standing in front of where Zekarra was seated.

Winter only got a brief look at them - one was clearly a man in stormtrooper armour, the other a woman in civilian clothing - because the moment they stopped, Zekarra was aiming and firing the pulser. The man howled as the 3mm hypersonic dart shredded armour and thigh alike, and the woman shrieked and sobbed in fear as the man was dropped to the floor. A second later she too was screaming in pain as the next pulser shot tore her abdomen apart.

It was so quick that Winter found herself frozen in shock, unable to look away from what was happening. Zekarra stood up, lifted the man from the floor and crushed his windpipe with a quick squeeze of his paw, before casually striding over to where the woman was slumped against the wall, her hands moving feebly against her midsection. With a single wicked claw, the Wookiee punctured her jugular, then stood and watched as she bled out. Finally, Winter managed to make herself turn away, dry-heaving as she did so.

She missed what Zekarra said next as she was still breathing deeply, trying to get her nausea under control. "What was that?" she gasped.

 _[If the Alliance want to help us,]_ Zekarra repeated, _[then it can give us more weapons like these.]_

She didn't answer immediately, her gaze shifting to the pulser Zekarra was still holding. She took a few more deep breaths, letting out the last one slowly in order to keep a lid on her rising anger, before looking the Wookiee directly in the eye.

"How are you going to use them?" she replied, attempting but failing to keep a note of anger from her voice.

Zekarra gave her a look of derision. _[We will use them to do what your Alliance cannot,]_ he snarled. _[We will fight the Imperials, free our enslaved brethren and show the rest of Kaal the suffering that we have endured at their hands!]_

"And how are you going to accomplish that?" Winter retorted. Zekarra gave her a look of 'what did I just say' but she carried on. "What's you operational plan? Where are you going to strike first? What's your contingency if that fails? Do you have a set of strategic goals?"

Zekarra looked at her stubbornly but silently as she continued. "Those are some of the questions that my superiors are going to want answers for before they even think of organising a weapons drop."

The Wookiee remained silent, glaring at her whilst his jaw worked in frustration, before he abruptly wheeled away and strode towards his chair, but stopped and stood in front of it instead of sitting down.

 _[Your Alliance is arriving this coming day to Kaal?]_ he finally asked, still facing away.

Winter swallowed nervously before she answered: "Yes."

Zekarra settled into his chair, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his thighs. _[We will provide answers to your superiors when they arrive, and see how generous the Alliance is then.]_

"I warn you that they will need some persuading to hand over weapons at short notice," Winter cautiously replied.

 _[We will negotiate,]_ Zekarra countered. _[I'm sure we can make our position clear to the Alliance. In the meantime, you will stay with us. Weaponry is the price for our assistance.]_

Abruptly, Winter ran out of patience. "In fact, we'll just chance things out on our own," she snapped. "We've survived a week against the Imperials - hells, against Darth Vader, twice - we can survive a few more hours until our ride arrives."

 _[You cannot leave alive without our permission,]_ Zekarra rumbled. _[We cannot risk having you captured by the Imperials and compromising us. You either assist us, or we kill you if you try to escape.]_

Winter's lips pressed together in a thin line as she realised what Zekarra's 'negotiations' entailed. "We're not items in a market to be bartered over," she warned. "The Alliance will cut straight through you to get us."

 _[Then we will show them that we are a force to be reckoned with,]_ Zekarra snarled before bellowing at the rest of his fighters, and Winter found herself being led away, leaving the Wookiee to resume his close study of her pulser.

* * *

The threat receiver began to warble menacingly the moment they came out of lightspeed near Kaal II but as there weren't sheets of turbolaser fire filling the viewports, Han figured that it was a false alarm and reached over to silence the unit. In the other seat, Chewbacca rumbled a query about the Star Destroyers deployed around the planet.

"Yeah, I see them," Han remarked. "At least it's not a standard interdiction pattern." But what it _wasn't_ , Han thought sourly, was the arrangement of a fleet riding quietly in orbit, so blindly confident in their own security that they were oblivious to the Alliance/Expedition ships sneaking in-system - his included.

The head of PO O'Reilly appeared between their seats as she augmented her scans with a visual. "I may be wrong, but they could be running an exercise."

"On how to capture exfiltration teams?" PO Giran responded sarcastically in the other seat, before straightening up as a light on the comm panel began to blink. "We're being hailed."

Han flicked a switch on his console and a bored-sounding voice came through. " _Unidentified freighter, this is the Star Destroyer_ Malignant _,_ " the voice stated. _"Please state your ID and business in Kaal._ "

O'Reilly cast a glance back at the indicators for the diffuser and the smart-paint, double-checking they were working properly as Han composed himself before answering.

"This is the _Achaean's Gift_ with a cargo of heavy equipment and… labour, bound for Bloenvijdroot," he replied, before sitting back with hands resting lightly on the tiller and sublight throttle, mentally preparing himself for evasive manoeuvres if the Imperials saw through their ruse.

On the _Malignant_ , the comms officer pushed his earpiece in further as he attempted to block out the rumble of mock-combat operations behind him. In front of him, the feed from the combat information centre showed an unremarkable light Corellian freighter with splashes of colour adorning its hull and a large pod in its forward mandibles. It was a vintage model and not one that was usually seen around the galaxy these days, but nothing to distract them from the exercise - so long as it stayed out of their way. " _Achaean's Gift_ , this is the _Malignant_ ," the officer began again. "All civilian traffic has been diverted to Taub for the duration of this exercise," he continued, mentioning one of Kaal's three moons. "Please follow the flight plan we will transmit, then proceed direct Taub once past the exercise area." He pressed the button to transmit said flight path to the freighter as he kept speaking. "For your convenience, Imperial and local customs will inspect your vessel there before releasing you to proceed to Bloenvijdroot once Navy orbital operations are concluded."

On the _Falcon,_ Han and Chewie hurried to bring up the system alignment plate for Kaal as the directed flight path came through. "Where's Taub in relation to Kaal?" Han asked, more to himself, just as the right plate finally came up on the viewscreen. Chewie murmured contently to himself as he realised Taub - currently on the dark side of the planet - was in opposition to their current position. "You think so?" Han asked and the Wookiee replied in the affirmative.

" _Achaean's Gift,_ please acknowledge," the comms officer called again and finally the freighter responded: " _Acknowledged - proceeding via requested flight path, then direct Taub._ " Satisfied, the officer flicked to the tracking screen and watched closely until the freighter was following the flight path properly before bringing up the next contact in the queue. "Yacht _Akcrimban_ , this is the Star Destroyer _Malignant_ -"

* * *

"Acknowledged, _Conquest_ ," Sabine responded to the pompous-sounding Imperial officer, "Proceeding as per request. _Kormoran_ out." Then, as soon as the channel had closed: "We'd better let the _Warspite_ know what's going on."

"Agreed," Hera said as she deftly pointed the _Ghost_ onto the requested flight path. Behind her, Garazeb Orrelios glared warily at the Star Destroyers as they drifted past. "I don't like the looks of this," the Lasat muttered.

"Buck up, Zeb," Sabine responded, "this isn't really different to any other mission we've done over the years."

"It's the first with a great big missile strapped to our belly," Zeb retorted.

"Which you're supposed to be keeping an eye on," Hera snapped. "Pay attention to your task, be ready once the time comes and everything will be alright." Clearly hearing the reprimand, Zeb shut his mouth with a click and turned his attention back to the loadmaster screen, although he still snuck an uncomfortable glance at the passing ships every so often.

" _Warspite_ acknowledges," Sabine announced a minute later, "and says that the _Falcon_ has experienced something similar, so they've pushed a schedule update: IP now in four minutes - pretty much when we make the turn to Taub direct."

"Initial point in four minutes, acknowledged," Hera replied, and reset the countdown on her console.

* * *

Ghyslain Riaza slipped into her seat, pulled her solitary code cylinder out of her left pocket and put it into the console scomp port before turning to a rather-exhausted looking Mirkaz at the console beside her.

"We've tried everything," he said, defeated. "We can't find any code system or language that the message belongs to."

"There's got to be some basis for it," Ghyslain replied. "Codes like this can't be invented out of thin air; there's got to be a natural language behind it."

"Well, best of luck in finding it then," Mirkaz remarked sourly, before pulling his code cylinder out of the console and heading for his rack. Ghyslain shrugged, before turning to her console and pulling up the code that had baffled the entire Intelligence department for the last seventeen hours or so:

– – – •

• – • •

– – –

•

– •

• • • –

• •

• – – –

– • •

• – •

– – –

– – –

–

• – – – –

– – – • •

• • • •

– – –

• • –

• – •

• • •

Instead of pulling up the file on the code immediately, Ghyslain leant back in her seat and relaxed, only half-looking at the code as she thought, fingers unconsciously tapping -

"Stop that."

"Huh?" Her concentration broken, Ghyslain looked over her shoulder at the source of the annoyed hiss, giving the other analyst - whose name escaped her - an apologetic smile before turning back to her screen again. It didn't take her long to get back into her thinking zone-

"Kriffing hell," came another soft yet angry admonishment from over her shoulder. "Can you just keep still?"

"I'm really sorry," Ghyslain replied just as quietly as she turned to face the other analyst, "it's a habit of mine."

"It's a damned annoying habit," the other analyst continued, his frown making his face even more severe. "Reveille was bad enough, but now you're tapping that code out - we've all had enough of it without you rapping it out on your console."

Ghyslain blinked in surprise, before turning her head back to where her right hand was resting on the console. Slowly, she began to tap her finger, varying the time between taps, before looking at the code on the screen again.

"Holy…" she exclaimed softly, before hurriedly turning back to her console and typing in commands - pausing briefly to give a heartfelt "Thank you!" to the man behind her - then grabbing the headphone set and slipping it on. Giving the earpieces a final adjustment, she pressed the new hotkey she'd just set up on her console.

A tone sounded in her ears.

She released the key and the tone stopped. Next she just tapped the key, resulting in a short ' _dit'_ of sound, before holding the key down again, a long ' _daaaaaaaaaah_ ' coming through the headphones. Once again, she experimented with varying the lengths of the tones, before she settled on something she was happy with and began tapping away.

* * *

"They've both made the turn inwards and are on track for periapsis at the required time," Wui-Yen announced. "Countdown now in progress; signal sent to task forces."

"Very good, Lieutenant," Captain Dushku replied, her dark face providing a striking contrast to the white skinsuit. "Any change in enemy force posture?"

"Nothing major detected, Skipper, except that the starfighters most distant from the _Executor_ appear to be heading back in; it may be the start of a general recall."

"Fortuitous timing for us," Commander Dawson muttered.

"What about our…most valuable player?" Dushku asked, turning to look at the young lieutenant.

"A moment, Captain…" After some trial-and-error, Wui-Yen had hit on a decent method of figuring out where on the planet Darth Vader might be. Bringing up a holo of Kaal, she closed her eyes and focused inwards on the sensation of cold, black anger that the Dark Lord evoked within her. Meanwhile, Joanna looked on, hands working with worry - she had made it clear to the woman that she wasn't being ordered to do her little trick, only requested, but Wui-Yen had taken the Saganami tradition to heart and would do everything in her power to assist her crewmates.

Her eyes still closed, Wui-Yen slowly reached into the holo with a stylus, only opening her eyes again when her hand stopped. "No change," she announced, "He's still in Uppsjaal."

* * *

The untrained Force presence tickled his senses again, but this time Darth Vader shoved the sensation to the back of his mind as he ignited his lightsaber. "My patience wears thin," he ground out, waving the lighsaber tip in front of the open eye of the Ithorian bound to the table. "Answer my question and the scars I shall leave may be less painful."

The Ithorian attempted a laugh in response. "Nothing you can say will force me to give up that information," he wheezed. "I take solace in the fact you are torturing _me._ If you had captured _her_ , I would be dead by your blade instead."

"As you wish," Vader snarled, as a sweep of his lightsaber removed the eye-stalk and a second stroke silenced the being permanently.

* * *

Ghyslain leaned back in her chair, hands behind the headrest, and blew out her breath in astonishment. _By the stars_ , she thought. _How old is this code?_ Binary had been ruled out early on in the analysis, despite there being only two symbols - she now realised why. _This thing was invented before computers were._

She began running through the code again, testing out each individual element, then combining them back into their constituent words. Quickly she found herself focusing on the second word:

• – – – –

– – – • •

Once again, she leaned back in her chair, looking at her fingers. _Okay_ , she thought, _let's assume this was invented by a ten-fingered species like humans._ She grabbed a datapad and quickly began writing, clearing her pad then beginning again, until she sat back and examined her handiwork:

1: • – – – – _or – • • • •_

2: • • – – – _or – – • • •_

3: • • • – – _or – – – • •_

4: • • • • – _or – – – – •_

5: • • • • • _or – – – – –_

6: – • • • • _or • – – – –_

7: – – • • • _or • • – – –_

8: – – – • • _or_ • • • – –

9: – – – – • _or • • • • –_

0: – – – – – _or_ • • • • •

"Okay," she said to herself, before looking at the word again. "One and eight? Or four and three? One and eight, four and three, one and eight…"

"Eighteen," came the voice over her shoulder again, giving her a start. "What was that?" Ghyslain asked, whirling to look at the other analyst.

"Eighteen," the other analyst repeated, amazement on his face. "That's what it could say, if those are numerals."

"Eighteen," Ghyslain repeated softly. "How did you pick _eighteen_?"

"Because the message was received about eighteen hours ago," the analyst said. Ghyslain stared at her for a moment, before gasping and reaching for the comm controls.

* * *

"Thank you," Piett said to the steward as he gratefully took the cup of cap offered. A hearty swig went some way towards burning the sleepy fog out his head, but he knew he'd need a few more cups before he could consider himself fighting fit. Taking another mouthful, he looked out over auxiliary command again.

The exercises were going well. He'd made Captain Gorlon the commander for the last two rounds and despite his lack of experience in capital-ship command, he was handling the _Executor_ well and not relying solely on starfighters to achieve the objective in the current simulation. Most of said starfighters were now back on the _Executor_ for refuelling and replenishment.

"Captain," came the call from behind him, and he turned to see Hirtek at a console, gesturing urgently. His interest piqued, he wandered over.

"We've had a breakthrough," Hirtek reported, his voice low and urgent. "The second word." He gestured to the commlink and Piett leant in.

"Ensign Riaza, we have Captain Piett here," Hirtek said. "Can you repeat your report please?"

" _Yes sir_ ," came the voice from the comm. " _We believe that the second word is two numerals, namely the digits 'ONE' and 'EIGHT'._ _We also believe that these numerals combined make the second word 'Eighteen'._ "

"'Eighteen'," Piett murmured. "How - no, wait, let me know how you figured that bit out later. What about the rest of the code?"

" _Sir, this is a guesstimation, but our belief is that the_ _ **third**_ _word could be 'Hours'._ "

"'Hours'?" Piett repeated dumbly. "Yes, sir," Hirtek replied, "eighteen hours."

The realisation blasted the fog out of Piett's mind like a proton torpedo and he whirled around. "Have the squadron go to battle stations," he shouted, "and get me Lord Vader!"

* * *

I figured this tune fits for reveille in the Imperial Service: [YouTube] /watch?v=hka3xSjuMRA&t=2m14s


	21. Chapter 21

Hi everyone...so sorry you've had to wait so long for this. Without trying to make excuses, I decided to push myself and get a chapter ahead before publishing the next - I never realised what a slog that would be. Additionally, I realised that for a while over these past months, I lost my inspiration. I was very much underwhelmed with TLJ; the same time last year, I was looking forward to _Rogue One_ and that drove a large part of my inspiration.

Fortunately, I am a chapter ahead now (just about...!) and my inspiration has come back (if not in full force), especially with the upcoming release of _Uncompromising Honor_. I've read the eARC that's available through Baen Books and whilst it starts off slowly, it certainly gets going faster than _Shadow of Victory_. It also breaks the head-continuity I had going from the end of _A Rising Thunder_ / _Shadow of Victory_ , which impacts a bit on early and future chapters. Season 4 of _Star Wars: Rebels_ breaks that continuity even more. However, both of them present opportunities for minor rewrites of earlier chapters to make them more impactful, so after this gets posted, I'll be completing (but not posting) the next chapter before modifying the earlier chapters and then getting on with continuing the story. My aim is to post the modified early chapters at the same time I post the next chapter.

We will see how that all pans out...call it an 'aspirational target'. Fortunately the major project I was focusing on at work is all wrapped up, the big rollings of special steel are out of the way and life is beginning to look a bit more routine again. It'll be what it'll be but I'm hoping I can update a bit faster this year.

* * *

Admiral Krane paced his flag bridge like an angry nexu as the timer pinged. "Jump time now, Admiral," Aren announced formally at the Tactical station and simply shrugged at Krane's glare. There wasn't much he could do now, just like there wasn't much he'd been able to do personally when Cresh-Bay's atmospheric shield had faulted.

Aren sighed - he figured they should be glad for small mercies, in that the shield hadn't failed completely and blown the bay occupants out into orbit around the comet they were floating beside, but they'd still had to evacuate the bay as a precaution whilst the engineers had worked on the shield power circuitry. This meant that the _Liberty_ 's fighter squadrons had been late launching - which meant that _right now_ , they were late executing their attack jump in-system.

His board pinged again - this time it was Starfighter Control. "We have the readiness signal from Rogue Squadron," Aren announced excitedly, and Krane let out his breath explosively. "Go!"

* * *

Han studied the surface of Kaal as the _Falcon_ rotated through its lazy roll, noting the quiescent dark point of a shield pole on the surface. They were now a bare five hundred kilometres above the surface, at the point of closest approach - and also at the time when the first of the Alliance ships should be dropping out of hyperspace. However, there were no Mon Calamari warships or X-wing fighters to be found blazing in, just a few other freighters making the same plodding transit to Taub.

There was a burst of chatter from the comm, and PO Giran pressed his headphones onto his ears. "The first task force has arrived," he announced.

"On the other side of the planet, of course," Han muttered darkly and flexed his free hand as he stopped the roll, the planet's surface now hidden underneath them again. Chewbacca growled a low warning, and Han made a point of putting his hand into his lap. "I know, don't worry," he said, fighting the urge to roll the _Falcon_ again so he could see if the shield generator was spooling up.

There was a flicker of pseudomotion in the top of the cockpit viewports and O'Reilly sat bolt upright. "Vessels dropping out of hyperspace!" she shouted.

Han pitched the Falcon up so that the new arrivals were more visible. "That's them," he announced - the shape of the _Liberty_ was hard to mistake for anything else. He let the _Falcon_ continue rotating around until her course was reversed before giving full power to the sublight engines, swearing as the diffusers kicked in and limited their maximum thrust. "Come on!" he yelled in frustration, slowly angling the _Falcon_ towards the planet as their speed bled off whilst the other craft in their makeshift convoy made similar manoeuvres. Far down below, he could see the formerly-dark shield pole beginning to glow as it powered up.

* * *

Captain Needa's step faltered as the alert klaxon sounded and he turned to face the confused watch officer. "My understanding was that the exercises were complete."

"That was my understanding as well, sir," the watch officer replied apologetically, "however the order just came in from the _Executor_ \- all stations to Readiness One."

"Sir," the Comms officer called from behind him, "Task Group Two reports an unidentified force just hypered in near them."

"What?" Reflexively, Needa glanced at the tactical holo - aside from Imperial Navy craft, all it showed was a small flotilla of freighters passing Kaal on their way to Taub.

"Sir, if I may," his exec, Dakmir Uxin, said at his shoulder, "this may be another part of the exercise - a surprise element."

Need considered it for a moment, then nodded - yes, it all made sense. "Very well," he announced, "set -"

" _Sir!_ " came the shout from EMDAR. "Unidentified signals coming out of hyper off our starboard beam!"

A few quick strides had Needa at the starboard viewports. The arriving flotilla consisted of four Nebulon-B frigates, a few assorted corvettes and escorting X-Wing and A-Wing fighter craft, but were dominated by two large ships. One was about the same size as a _Victory_ -class Star Destroyer and had a deep ventral fin tipped by a command pod, but the other was nearly the size of the _Avenger_ and her sisters. Her fluid, rounded lines provided a stark contrast to their own Star Destroyers and instantly betrayed her manufacturers.

"So," Needa murmured, "we now know who ended up with the 'stolen' Mon Calamari starliners."

"And I'd wager a bottle of Whyren's that most of the crew is still Mon Calamari," Uxin replied.

"I'm not taking that bet, Commander, because I'm sure I'd lose!" Needa replied as he watched the arriving Rebel flotilla veer towards Kaal's dark side, and nodded as the _Malignant_ broke formation to keep herself between Kaal and the Rebel's expected path.

"Signal to Task Group," Needa announced, turning away from the viewport. "Battle Stations, Readiness One. Fall into wall formation and manoeuvre to keep our ships in between Kaal and the Rebels at all times. Launch alert flights, close to standard turbolaser range and engage at will." He made his way to the front of the bridge as the alert klaxon wailed again and the hubbub in the pit rose as his officers hurried to carry out his orders.

"I guess we were lucky," Uxin remarked as they watched the Mon Calamari cruisers draw closer. "If we were in formation with the _Executor_ and not conducting exercises out here, they would've had craft inside the planetary shield perimeter before we could've intercepted them."

"Maybe so," Needa replied after a moment, "but I feel that, even though the Mon Calamari are excellent ship-handlers, what we're seeing now underlines their lack of strategic thinking. For example, all of the fighter craft they field have one explicit advantage over ours - hyperspace capability." He paused as he watched their own TIE fighters engage the very ships he'd mentioned. "If I were in their position and I had small craft with that capability, I would've done a few reconnaissance flights before committing to the attack. Let's not fool ourselves," Needa continued, as a protest formed on Uxin's lips. "Space is big, and no matter the resolution of our remote sensor platforms, I doubt that they would be able to accurately detect and flag a few X-Wings jumping in for a look-see. Had they done that, they would've seen our new deployment and could've adjusted their plans accordingly."

"And we were only minutes from concluding the exercises and falling back into formation," Uxin remarked, then smiled ruefully. "I gather every day is a new opportunity to learn."

"Oh yes, Commander," Needa said with a wolfish grin, "and I believe I will very much enjoy teaching these Rebels their much-needed lesson." He folded his arms over his chest in satisfaction as the first ranging shots lanced out from the _Avenger_ 's lateral guns towards the small Rebel fleet.

* * *

"C'mon," Lieutenant Plamf muttered under his breath, fist nervously clenching and unclenching as the repeater plot showed the Star Destroyers moving in between Kaal and the approaching Rebels. Despite that he felt acutely vulnerable, as the planetary shield generators he was in charge of monitoring were still warming up. His gaze went to the points of light on the repeater descending towards the planet - freighters trying to get inside the shield perimeter before it came up, and a brief, uncharacteristic thought flickered through his head about how much more vulnerable the crews on those freighters must feel.

"Generator status?" Commander Jarnan called.

"Twenty seconds till available," Plamf replied.

"Hmpf. The activation yesterday should've been a wake-up call for Generator Ops to ensure they had their act together," Jarnan grumbled. "Some readiness audits may be in order afterwards."

"Yes sir," Plamf replied, his eyes fixed on the generator availability indicators. Finally the last of them changed colour from orange to green. "Shield available," he called.

"Activate," Jarnan formally announced, and Plamf was twisting the switch as soon as he heard the first syllable. A moment later, the availability indicators flicked from green to blue, the repeater drew a sphere surrounding the planet, and a few of the dots descending into Kaal disappeared as the physical ships they represented ran into the impenetrable barrier that had just appeared in front of them.

Plamf paid them no heed, shifting his attention to bringing the local defence turbolaser batteries online.

* * *

The _Falcon's_ scanners registered the destruction of the two freighters that didn't make it past the shield perimeter in time, barely a hundred kilometres aft, and Petty Officer O'Reilly winced at the casual loss of civilian lives. Han, of course, was currently too busy to pay heed as he attempted to slow their crash dive without ripping the _Falcon_ apart.

"I know, Chewie!" he yelled in response to the Wookiee's bellow as he pulled back the tiller as far as he dared. The ship began to jolt and rock as the air it flew through became thicker, and more lights began to flash on the panel as the systems registered the growing stress on the connection between the ship and the cargo pod in the forward mandibles. Someone said something over the internal comms circuit but O'Reilly couldn't make it out over the roar of the engines in full reverse.

Slowly, agonisingly, the _Falcon_ levelled out and the buffeting faded as they slowed down. Han closed the throttle to a more reasonable level, then leaned back in his seat and let out a breath in relief. "Let's not do that again," he remarked. Chewbacca growled a reply.

"Huh?" Han responded, blinking, before his expression turned mulish. "Hey, that was different, it doesn't count."

Chewie let out a longer yowl in response. "No, it doesn't," Han countered stubbornly.

"Hey, pirates," O'Reilly interjected, before the argument got out of hand, and both human and Wookiee turned to look at her. "We've got a schedule to keep, so if we can leave the discussion for the cantina later?"

Both of them turned to look at each other before nodding and turning back to the console and the _Falcon_ wheeled around, Chewie growling as it did so.

"Yes you are," Han replied. "The Letter of Marque applies to you too."

Chewie's reply was a little more vocal.

"Okay, 'privateer' instead of 'pirate', but you're not exempt. The Letter is for the _Falcon_ , the 'master' - me - and any and all crew on her under my command."

Chewie made a remark. Han paused, then exclaimed "Hey, you're right!" before facing O'Reilly again, a smirk on his face. "Chewie's got a point - you're crewing for me on this mission, so that makes you a pirate as well!"

O'Reilly's response was to turn back to her station and put a hand over her face.

* * *

" _Warspite_ reports that -" Aren broke off as the _Liberty_ rocked under a particularly intense salvo - "that both Kestrel and Kookaburra are safely in the roost." The only response from Admiral Krane was a wave of his hand, intent as he was on the tactical holoplot. After half a minute, he sighed and stepped back from the railing, deep in thought. After a few more moments he asked, "Can I have a group tactical update please?"

"Yes, sir," Aren replied, switching the holoplot to a wider view. "Rhalerys' last report indicates that his force is proceeding well," he announced, and brought up a visual feed of their sister cruiser _Freedom_ and her escorts from the nearest Expedition drone. " _Warspite_ indicates that the groups distracting Golan North and South have suffered no major losses and that Fighter Group One is neutralising the _Executor's_ starfighter patrol and that their attack on interstellar comms is proceeding as per plan."

Krane nodded wordlessly as he studied the various symbols on the holoprojection. Aren paused for a moment, then began to turn back to his console only to look up again at Krane's muttering.

"Sir?"

Krane turned to him with a startled expression. "Sorry, Aren - what was that?"

"You said something, sir?"

"Oh." Krane straightened, waving a nonchalant hand. "Just expressing my amazement at the Expedition's drone system. Admiral Ackbar had been waxing lyrical about it when he'd first arrived with their fleet." He folded his arms across his chest. "I was skeptical about it's usefulness at first, but now I'm using it in action…I've got to agree with Ackbar."

Aren shrugged. "Certainly their system is useful and well-developed, but it doesn't seem to be a galaxy-shattering idea. Didn't General Dodonna do something similar at Yavin, so that their base could communicate with their starfighters attacking the Death Star out of their line-of-sight?"

Krane nodded. "Similar, yes, but that was with a manned ship that had a separate primary mission and was seconded to the task at the last minute."

"When the three key leaders of the Rebellion refuse to leave, the main mission is over before it begins," Aren muttered under his breath. More loudly he said, "So? At their core, these drones are droid-piloted craft with in-system hypercomms. That's nothing we couldn't do."

"That's been my line of thinking as well," Krane said. "The best advantage for us in the Alliance of a remote sensing platform system like this is that it'd be quick and easy to develop using existing technology. Sure, the Expedition use gravitational signals in a way that we've never envisaged but, as you said, the key concept of FTL data transmission from these drones is easy with our own technology. Now that I've had a chance to use it myself, I find myself agreeing with Admiral Ackbar again - we should put a case to the High Council to develop our own system, especially with the Expedition providing not only fighting resources but manufacturing facilities as well."

"Then we'd better do it before the Empire does," Aren remarked. "In fact, they have a head start with infrastructure, such as their Viper probe droids."

"Now that's a sobering thought," Krane murmured. "Good thinking, Aren. Once we're at Mon Cala - and have dealt with whatever's waiting us there - I'd like you to begin work on an anti-remote-platform doctrine."

"Sir," Aren acknowledged, just as a tone sounded from his console and he looked down to check. "Sir," he said again, narrowing the view of the holoplot.

"Ah," Krane remarked as he took in the growing arrow pointing forward from their nearest target, which indicated the Star Destroyer was accelerating. "Took them long enough," he remarked wryly. "I've been trying to goad them into doing that for the last five minutes."

"I suggest we'd better take advantage before they do outflank us," Aren said. "Should I signal - sorry," he corrected himself as the call came through, "should I put Captain Raddol on?"

"Please," Krane answered and turned to face the small hologram of the grey Mon Calamari. "Captain Raddol. How goes it?"

"Very well, Admiral," Raddol answered in his gravelly voice. "You probably know that Target One is accelerating to outflank, but we may have an opportunity - we've spotted damage to their starboard main guns and main engine nozzle. We would need to manoeuvre to concentrate our fire on those areas and I'm thinking we could coordinate those with the general rimward manoeuvre that's planned."

"Excellent idea, Captain," Krane said with a grin. "Let's do some damage of our own instead of leaving it all to Oversteegen."

* * *

She struggled with all her might but her captors' grip was too strong as they dragged her into the room. The spectators were yelling and shouting but all she could hear was the roaring of blood in her ears. Pleas formed multiple times on her lips, but were never spoken, perhaps as she unconsciously knew that he would never consider them. The contemptuous sneer on Zekarra's face as he aimed the pulser at her seemed to confirm her thoughts. Her focus shifted from the black Wookiee to the pulser's muzzle as his finger tightened on the firing stud -

And then Winter woke up. For the fourth time in as many hours.

She lay there at first, breathing deeply as she waited for her heart to stop racing. The last three nightmares had been of her observing Partisan murders; the most recent dream was the only one in which the gun barrel had been pointed at her. She looked up into the inky blackness of the room they'd shoved her into, thinking. Maybe her subconscious was trying to tell her something?

Whilst Partisan members had never been above threatening erstwhile allies in order to get their way, she hadn't heard or seen any reports of Partisans killing Alliance personnel deliberately. But in regards to Zekarra…

The Wookiee had an obvious goal of rescuing other slaves, and his species' bloodlust was not far from the surface if the nonsensical murders she had witnessed were anything to go by. She briefly imagined Zekarra's reaction when the Alliance/Expedition said 'no' to his request for weapons, and shuddered - even a Lasat like Burralis would be hard-pressed to beat an enraged Wookiee in a one-and-one fight. And when said Wookiee had followers with weapons…

Her mind made up, she pushed herself to her feet and began to run her hands over the walls, feeling for any weakness that might be helpful in getting her out, but as her fingers brushed along the various ridges and furrows without finding any sign of a seam or weak spot, her hopes dropped.

She came to the door and carefully explored every centimetre of it, but it was well-constructed and installed and the lock was mechanical only. Breathing raggedly, she stepped back from it before throwing herself forward and crashing against it. The impact knocked the breath out of her but nothing more. Again she threw herself against it, and again, and again. The last time, she didn't step back immediately but pressed her hands against the door once more, feeling around its edges, trying to discern any new weakness in it.

There wasn't.

With an inarticulate cry Winter shoved herself away from the door and strode to the far end of the cell before whirling to face it again. There she stood, breathing deeply to try and bleed her anger off, mind racing as she attempted to remember anything else that could help her get out of here.

Slowly, Winter stepped back until she could feel the wall behind her and slumped down it until she was sitting on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, head on her arms. A sudden blast of despair and anger welled up within her and burst out as a solitary sob. After out-racing the Imperial hunt for them, including two encounters with Darth Vader himself, it seemed she and the Trekkers were most likely going to die in sight of rescue at the hands of fanatics who were supposed to be fighting for the same things that the Alliance wanted.

In the middle of her despair, her thoughts suddenly turned to Leia, and her mental picture of her kind face blossomed into her mind's eye. _What would Leia do?_ a voice in her head asked her and a multitude of memories burst forth - of Leia organising, acting, doing things to get herself and the Rebellion out of trouble.

One of those memories solidified, as clear as the night it had occurred - just after she and her team had escaped from Averam. Unable to sleep, she had been nursing a warm drink in a corner of the ship's empty mess hall when Leia had walked in.

She had stopped and stared at Winter for a second after entering, clearly not expecting the other woman to be there, before fetching her own hot drink from the dispenser and sitting down opposite Winter. There they stayed for about a minute, both of them looking into their own drinks.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" Winter had finally asked.

Leia shook her head as she took a sip of her drink. "I had the most horrible nightmares," she explained after putting the mug down. "Ones I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. After seeing the aftermath of what the Imperials did to those civilians…" She closed her eyes, then shook her head. "I can't fathom what could've driven them to such viciousness."

"I can," Winter murmured darkly. "After what the Partisans did to the Imperials…" She brought her mug to her lips and used it to swallow the near-treasonous words sitting in her throat. "If Saw's not recruiting ideologues," Winter finally said, "then he's recruiting people who just want to fight."

"I'm not surprised," Leia replied. "He's been fighting somebody for most of his life."

Winter sighed. "From what I've seen, Leia…" She broke off and shook her head. "I'd happily have your nightmares in place of mine." She gave a humourless snort. "When working with them, and listening to them, I wondered if the Partisans were aiming for the same goals as the Alliance. If they're really on the same side as us." She caught Leia's gaze with her own. "Or if they just want to be a different form of Empire."

Leia took another sip of her drink before continuing. "You're not the only one to think that. I'm not sure Mon Mothma will keep putting up with Saw and his Partisans for much longer." She held up a data-pad. "I figured that since these nightmares are keeping me awake, I'll put that time - and those memories - to use writing a report to the High Council to push that idea along. Hopefully it'll mean you'll never have to work with them again."

Winter smiled as she watched her sister in all but name begin writing said report, fingers flying rapidly over the pad. Typical Leia, she thought - always turning challenges into opportunities. Her smile faded as she remembered her own, much more vivid nightmares - courtesy of her incorruptible memory - and she silently wished that she was strong enough to do the same as Leia.

"Oh, Winter," Leia said, and Winter focused on her again - clad not in her sleeping clothes any more, but in some sort of light outdoor wear, and the pad was nowhere to be seen. Some deep portion of her mind was giving her a mental prod that somehow, this wasn't a memory…

"Winter," Leia said again, and her attention shifted to Leia's gentle eyes. "You've always been strong, much stronger than I have. At times like these, I've often wished I could help carry some of your burden."

Winter opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out and Leia gave her a sad smile. "I'm sorry, it seems that I'm the only one that can speak here, but I can feel your emotions, even so far away." She leaned forward on the table. "Winter, don't despair. The Force is with you and your companions. The Expedition is on it's way - I promise."

A feeling of love and warmth seemed to flow from Leia to Winter and she revelled in it. "I'm sorry I can't be there in body to help," Leia continued, "but I'll do what I can in spirit. You've come so far - don't give up now. Trust your feelings and let the Force guide you."

Winter gave up trying to speak and instead attempted to make her feeling of gratitude for Leia as big and powerful as she could, just before a door that wasn't previously there opened in the wall behind Leia with a bang, the brilliant light beyond shining straight into Winter's eyes. Leia and the ship's mess faded into the featureless cell as a Rodian and a Togorian strode through the door and as she blinked against the sudden light, Winter realised she had fallen asleep again.

The two beings stopped either side of her and the Rodian gestured with his blaster. When Winter didn't react as quickly as they liked, they each grabbed an arm and roughly hauled her up. Memories of the nightmare where she'd been executed flashed through her mind and she began to struggle until the Rodian jabbed the muzzle of the blaster into her chin.

"Stop that!" he snarled. "Zekarra wants you and the others."

"What for?" Winter growled back.

"Your Rebel Alliance is attacking; they're in orbit now and the planetary shield is up. Zekarra wants you to talk to them." And with that, she was pulled forwards and out of the cell again. As she was led through the corridors of the base, two thoughts crossed her mind again and again: _The Alliance is coming for us!_ , closely followed by _How do we_ _talk to_ _them if the shield is up?_

* * *

Seated on a damp rock, Leia slowly opened her eyes again to reveal the humid Dagobah swamp and smiled in accomplishment. Further away, a short Jedi master paused in his observation of saber practice to briefly focus on the young woman - and then he, too, smiled in delight.


End file.
